Has anyone picked up a regular reference here? 30 years?
What I find astonishing from my perspective is that some of you have been able to get help through diagnosis. My soon-to-be ex H is NEVER, but NEVER, responsible in ANY way for head on collisions, whether with me or others..it is always someone else's fault. To even suggest that any psychological help and diagnosis could be sought would result in incredulity and angry refusal on his part. He told me today that someone had walked out of a lunch because he had referred to Muslims as 'fuzzy-wuzzies' - he just couldn't understand why. I commented rather snappily that there are people who take great exception to racist comments. His reply was, "some people have no sense of humour". End of conversation.
We spent two weeks in South Africa a few years ago. He spent every day of one week looking for clip-on sunglasses which, once he had found a pair, then refused to wear because someone had laughed at him when he forgot to flip them back down. He spent half of each day of the second week going to an internet café to check our seat numbers for the flight back.
The comment about a social bore rings bells - we rented a gite on the Riviera with some golfing buddies a couple of years ago. My H attached himself like glue to the male and expounded his puerile theories at him for hours at a time. The friend ended up having a sort of nervous crisis before the week was up and they left early - he'd been hoping for a restful break - a little peace; some sketching; some reading - that sort of thing. At 7 am for the first two mornings, despite my protestations, my H put Wagner CDs on the stereo very loudly - not because he likes classical music, but because our friend does! Said friend's wife came out of their room looking apoplectic. My H then called her a spoilsport.
These stories are quite amusing but there are many sinister sides to this syndrome. A pet cat I had at the time of our meeting was taken by him and dumped at the side of the road because he didn't want a cat in our new home. He missed the fact that the cat was wearing an identity collar and I got a phone call and was able to retrieve her. He spends hours snooping on people via the internet, even paying fees to check their company financial details. He knows all the most trivial minutiae relating to neighbours' daily habits. I despair.
And, sorry to go on but he has never, ever, not even once in 30 years, called me by my name. If he wants to alert me, he whistles.