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| Blogs > rm_uptownkiller > Soon to be insane |
I need to start over with this blog. Things are not working out like I wanted.
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I need to start over with this blog. Things are not working out like I wanted. Ever ask for something, get it, and not be happy with what you asked? That is happening to me right now. Unfortunately, I want the golden calf, and I was brought up with the rules of the commandments. My husband, is my blessing and my curse. I can’t seem to experience one, without the other. Even now, what I wanted, does not appeal to me any more. I am not psycho (normally), I just have a hard time accepting change the way he does. I realize I am codependent on him, you cant not be around him. I sound like a preacher. WTH? Why do I want him to change so much? It would be so much easier to just forget and go with the flow. Some things I can never forget, ever. The first time I met him, not a good day really. I thought he was so quiet, and really boring initially. He looked so geeky, with glasses and fat. Easily fifty pounds over weight, then. I remember feeling nothing towards him. He was just so ordinary. I was upset that day. I filed for divorce just two months after marrying at age 19. My divorce was almost finished, but my ex wanted my IRS refund check, before he would sign off on the custody of my . I wanted nothing more to do with him. I remember having those loving feelings towards my first husband as bad boy type. Country look, and really a social outcast from my high school. When I was a cheerleader, he was the only guy in my class that seemed like he didn’t want to be with me, it was a very small school. It seemed like I had to fight for him to even notice me. It was very attractive. Took him over a year for me to lose my virginity to him after we graduated. I didn’t have really much experience dating, but I did go to parties then. Got a little drunk with the other girls in the fields, and generally had no clue about the world. Had a few dates, but with jocks that I thought would be a good match. After all they had high social status in school, and I could have any one I generally wanted. After we got married, and moved into this run down house. Things changed between us. I got pregnant, and his true self came out. He was a complete asshole. Asked me if the baby was “HIS”, when he was the only guy I had sex. My parents practically supported us, because he kept losing jobs. I later found out it was because he was going to work high, if he even bothered to go in. Things kept getting worse. As I was giving birth at the hospital, the asshole said, “Fuck, another girl that’s gonna get knocked up.” He abandoned me at the hospital, because he was “tired” and needed his sleep. He had an affair that night, with some stoned chick. I cried all night long, although I had this wonderful little girl in my arms. I got no sleep, because no one told me I could send my baby to the nursery. I only stayed a little over a day. I called to have him pick me up, but he didn’t. My dad did. My dad took me to our house, and there I found him, his two loser druggie friends, and that girl in our bed. I walked out carrying my , and left with my father to his house. I love my dad, but how I wish he had kicked this guy’s ass. When I was at my parent’s house, my husband tried to get back into my life. We talked, and actually started dating for about a month. I thought things were getting better, and just when I thought he would ask me to move back in with him because he had changed for the better. I got all dressed up, my parents were watching my , and when it came time for him to show. He didn’t. He didn’t call. I sat in my nicest outfit holding my baby, and feeling hurt. No word from him the next day, or the next. I grew worried, so I drove over to our house. His loser friends were staying there, and told me he had been arrested for dealing drugs. I gathered my stuff, and found in the attic about ten potted plants of mary jane. I left with my stuff, and called the police when I got home to my parents. I filed for divorce, and started working while the bastard sat in jail. He wrote me letters, very sweet and loving ones. Even with them, It was easy to let him go, and I didn’t even respond to them. The last time I saw the asshole, from my parents house window, my dad was giving him the money and making him sign the paperwork my lawyer prepared. Full custody, no visitation, but no support either. He was broke anyway, and I had no hope that he could ever find another job. Almost six months later, I met my current husband for the first time. Our neighbors across the street were having an 40th anniversary party. They invited me and my to attend, but really I think they wanted to me to hook up with one of their grandsons. They had three. So, I was sitting in a chair in the living room, with the baby carrier next to me. People all around, and my current mother in law and I were talking. When my husband walked in the door, all the conversation died. I didn’t really know what was going on. He glanced around the room, said a polite hello to everyone, and left to find his grandmother in the kitchen. His mom, said, he is getting a divorce. My first thought, his wife needs to. I really didn’t know the details, and he just seemed so blah. A programmer, that was in college. I got up to check on my , and his grandmother was holding her in the kitchen. Berating him for getting a divorce, then I heard her say, to stay away from those wetbacks in the future. So he married a hispanic girl out of high school, and three years later getting a divorce. He just seemed numb. Can I hold the baby? He asked. His grandmother agreed, and handed my to him. I was a little disgusted by him. However, my was not. He started making faces, and<b> tickling </font></b>her toes. She cooed in his hands. Its time for her feeding, I said, as I took her away. I went out to the porch, and sat and rocked on the swing, feeding her. Another lonely guy, and the two other grandsonsons were at least two years younger than me. Small town, and small selection. I was dating a guy anyway. I had no feelings for him, just he was available through work. I dreamily watched as the some of the men gathered to socialize out front in the lawn. They seemed happy talking about dove and deer season. They had this bonding thing going, until my husband came outside and went to talk to his grandfather. As they stood next to each other, I noticed the resemblance, but my husband then was fat. I am not sure what they said, but I did see what happened next. One of the , a 14 year old, was throwing mud balls. His grandfather yelled for the boy to stop, but the ignored him. The had no respect for him, and the grandfather got hit with one. He was pissed, and was about to advance on him, when my husband grabbed him by the hand. Go clean up. Relax. I will take care of it. His grandfather said, please do, and walked right by me into the house. Hey Mike, he yelled, gotta question for you. The looked suspicious, and then laughed as he through another hand of mud at my husband. My husband just walked up to him, smiled. Then grabbed him by the shirt, and then by the pants. He dragged the over to muddy water hole where the was getting his mud. The boy screamed, but my husband threw him in anyway. I laughed as I watched it. He landed right in the middle soaking him with the dirty water. Then he said something weird, softly but I still heard it, my grandfather raised two , served in the army during the Korean war, worked his entire life so his family would have a good life, this was his day, and those were his best clothes, your behavior towards him was disrespectful. The boys mother came running out of the house crying, and my husband’s uncle frowned at my husband. My husband crossed his arms, and waited. His uncle said, you should apologize to the boy. My husband just looked at him, and said, no, and walked off. As crazy as it seems now, I forgot this day, until I saw him years later. I kept going over to his grandparents house, and heard stories about him, the stories kept getting weirder. Quit his job, dropped out of school, and when my was four, joined the army. Fat guy in the army, that was a really rich joke at 27. What a loser, I thought back then. Seven years passed before I saw him again in person. I probably had dated about 10-15 guys, had sex with four, and was engaged with a man I had been dating for a little over a year. My fiancee and I had sex about 2-3 times a month, and the sex was ok, in fact all of my experiences were rather average until I met my husband. I had some issues with a couple of them, two black guys I dated. I just lost interest in them once they became so jealous or needy. I didn’t even have sex with one of the two, although I wanted to, he never advanced it to the next level. For such an attractive guy, the wuss factor could not be overcome. During this whole time, I was going to church with my parents, and had odd jobs until I started working with an insurance company. My cult, as my husband refers to it, was Kenneth Copeland Ministries. I was immersed in it. I felt guilty about wanting the sex, and trying to wait for the “one”, but I was constantly surrounded by sweet, nice guys. The kind I didn’t have any attraction, but I overcame the hypocrisy to have some sex. So, I was engaged to nice sweet guy I met through church, then tragedy happened. My husband’s grandfather died. Died in the middle of the night, holding his wife’s hand after 47 years of marriage. It was sweet in a way. My husband’s mom asked me to come over and help with the arrangements. All three of us were crying. He was such a “good” man. (More on that later) He considered my one of his grandchildren. Took her with him to feed the animals, and go get ice cream. He was not a nice guy, well, he was, but not. He was very gruff, and stubborn, and if steadfast. He expected things, and worked hard for his entire life. He knew everyone in town, and the gruffness was kinda charming. Hard to explain, former smoker, and his gravel like voice made me laugh when he crossed his arms. He always did that, crossed his arms and implied no, until my would convince him of her way of thinking. My had him wrapped around her little finger. God, I miss the man. My hubby’s mom, made phone calls all day. His grandmother held my and cried, at 7, I know she understood. They practically didn’t move from the couch. There, my early life laid bare. Yes, this will be easier when I chat with my friends, after they read this, I don’t think they will believe the part about my husband being such a geek. I am not relenting on the rules I set down on him, yet. Maybe, if he suffers, or at least shows me he is suffering, what kind of crazy person am I? I wrote this whole post on my day off, while my husband was at work. I was hoping he would read it, and notice that I took his advice. That is another irritating thing about him, his love of teaching. The feelings I felt when I started, are gone. I have a great life. I wish he didn’t need to fill it with other people. It does make me feel less important. He may be my soul mate, but I know I am not his. |
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