My step dad died a few months ago. He was an appalling human being.
My husband is, luckily, not an appalling human being, and he’s watched women’s football for a few years and really enjoyed the win last night.
But for me… my step dad really hated women. The amount of shit he used to say… it’s all come flooding back today, because I know what he thought of women playing football.
“Women are only good for two things, cooking and fucking.”
”You’re all either frigid bitches or nymphomaniacs. All money grabbers, anyway.”
”You’re getting nice boobs.”
Reader, I was 10/11 years old. My mother used to chuckle indulgently and say well it’s not his fault he’s saying that, he’s drunk. And he was, almost all of the time. Including when he ‘accidentally’ stuck his tongue into my mouth when I kissed him goodnight, when I was 12. My mother found out, and told me, again, not his fault, and secondly, ‘you should be flattered that a man finds you attractive.’
As you can imagine, my mental health has been varying degrees of shite, all my life. My mother was also a real piece of work, I could write a book. I’m lucky, I have a lovely family and absolutely nothing to do with my mother, for almost 17 years. But occasionally something triggers the old wounds and I feel 11 years old again, all I want to do is cry in my bedroom. I’m 45 for fucks sake!
I’m hoping tomorrow will be better. It will, won’t it?