My ex’s favorite term of endearment for me was ‘scleprock,’ which he used nearly daily but especially when explaining to me why going back to school or work was a waste of time for me. It was fine for me to have ‘hobbies’ like playing at a career or seeking higher education as long as I remembered that my real job was to keep his house and good luck to me if I got behind on the laundry or didn’t have dinner on the table at 7PM. He had hobbies too: taking my prescriptions, smashing my head into the washing machine, choking me until I passed out, taking my phone and laptop away and generally being an abusive shit. But I had it coming to me because I was just a ‘scleprock.’