I’d say things became pretty tough when my girlfriend joined that cult – I mean, club, but it’s basically a cult – that revolves around music. That was pretty weird, but she hadn’t asked me to join and I was trying to be a supportive boyfriend so I was all like, “Good for you, babe; if you enjoy it then you go to those meetings every single weeknight and four times on a weekend.”
Things took a downward turn when I decided to have the big talk. I’ve contacted some conveyancing offices in Melbourne, and a few venues, because I thought it was time we bought a house to move into when we get married. But that did NOT go down well. I’ve saved up for ages so we could buy a home and also have the fantasy wedding she wanted, but apparently that wasn’t enough. “She works hard for the money,” she sang, angrily. “ So hard for it, honey,” she then added. “ She works hard for the money so you beeeetter treat her right!”
I guess we’re not buying a house, or getting married. I’ll just tell all the conveyancers I spoke to that my girlfriend told me, though song, that we’re not contracting the services of a conveyancer, and they need never expect a call from us ever again.
“I am a woman…on a mission…woah-oh!” she then informed me. I asked when it might be time to contact a conveyancer and get the ball rolling, and she replied with “A thouuuuusand years,” and then finished with “So wake me uuup when it’s all over,” and went to bed.
Anyway, we broke up. She sang Kelly Clarkson songs at me until I’d gotten all my stuff out of the house. And I’m just about to look into getting help with title transfers to get me a nice place way up in the north of Melbourne, because I’m getting on the property ladder with or without someone. Also, it’s the furthest place in Melbourne from the musical club headquarters.