Three days waking up acutely feeling all that I lost.
There’s no such thing as an abused husband. An abused husband is the punchline to a comic strip; it’s the little man in Mary Poppins who, during “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious”, meekly claims that he once said the word to his “girl and now me girl’s me wife”, to which his huge, domineering wife takes offense and pops him one on the head. “And what a lovely thing she is, too,” he says to placate her. And that was me for most of my adult life.