Timeliness, isn’t my best trait…

I’m always late, and he’s fully cognisant that he’s always waiting. Waiting, for me to tell it like it is when he’s incapable of grasping the truth.    
     
I grabbed a coffee on my way, and I’m well caffeinated but I’ll grab another fresh cup whilst pondering what’s in front of me.    
     
He calls me, and asks why the delay, I sense no agitation just a where the fuck are you now !?    
     
As usual, I’m stuck in traffic, wracking my brain about where to park, before I even arrive whilst pondering the lines in the middle of the road.      
     
Nothing about the morning went to plan, and nothing about the afternoon will be the same.      
     
He called in sick, and I rearranged my calendar to make time for his debriefing.      
     
Nobody likes being told the truth as the truth hurts but he takes mine like a shot of whiskey, thanks me afterwards, and always hits me up next month when he’s carrying emotional baggage.    
     
I’ve no idea why he gets himself tangled up in situations he knows aren’t able to proffer him anything of real substance.      
     
Twenty five years of lessons learnt, and he still can’t take a hint that his internal compass is broken.      
     
It happens when you’re not willing to grow.    
     
There's more to life than sex, alcohol & drugs, and he doesn’t realise the coping strategies he’s deployed.      
     
Always chasing those skanky arse broken down bitches who failed to value their education whilst trading their body for falsities.      
     
He’s still suffering the afflictions of unresolved childhood trauma.      
     
We both know that that’s why he attracts women who’re incapable of rising above their own childhood abuse, and it’s not until they’re both thrashing about, drowning in a sea of domestic abuse, that they ponder how inadequate and dysfunctional they truly are.    
   
Toxic, would be an understatement.      
     
We talk for a few hours, and several coffees later, he asks how my love life is going, like it’s actually going anywhere.
     
I tell him awkwardly that I haven’t got time for a relationship at the moment, and that watching him suffer is enough for the both of us, and we both laugh. He gets it. I spent years healing my afflictions, and still, selfishly do me.  
     
I’m actually looking forward to my youngest child leaving home as the wanderlust from my twenties remained dormant during my early mothering years.      
     
I’ve mountains to hike, music festivals to roam to and faraway places to explore offshore. It’s a midlife crisis but I can afford it. It’s better than backpacking in my twenties.      
     
I can taste freedom, and there’s freedom when flying solo.      
     
He needs to work on himself but he can’t stop filling his body with toxins, and toxic forked tongue lying whores that add another burden of trauma to his fractured psyche.
     
One day, he’ll wake up !    
     
However, today isn’t the day and we’ll be unpacking the same shit next month.      
     
Just a different date, a different time & place and a different heartache from another stupid whore. Thank fuck he has no children as the women he forks are atrocious, and no doubt, he’d be calling upon me to help him figure that shit out too.