How to Marry a Psychopath
So, before I begin the foreword, it was a complete
accident ok? Had I known he was a psycho, I wouldn’t
have signed the marriage certificate for chrissakes!
Anyways, these musings began as a form of written
therapy after faking my own death and escaping (poetic
licence here, if you’ve seen the film, you’ll know what I’m
talking about) After you’ve married, survived and finally
escaped from the clutches of a diagnosed psycho, it’s not
very sensible to write candidly about it….. Well not if he’s
still alive and stalking the end of your driveway. But I’m a
bit loopy anyway. This, my dear readers, explains the
need for anonymity and the Fruitloopmum pseudonym.
I’ve had great fun letting my musings mutate into a blog
with a select and adoring Fruitloopmum fan club, and
now you lucky things, it’s a book!
Written with my naughty tongue firmly in my cheek, it
contains mad rants and bad language. So, if you’re a
politically correct, sensitive soul….put the f***ker down
Please go and read something else.
However, if by some weird chance you find yourself
laughing, crying and connecting with the collection of
oddness herein, then Google my pseudonym and check
out the latest work from Fruitloopmum.