One thing I noticed recently about my relationship with Mick is I don’t feel a compulsive need to be having sex with him all of the time we are together. In fact, my actual sexual libido is almost non-existent. I’m rarely horny any more. That could be because (when we’re together) he is touching me almost all the time and (when we’re apart) he never leaves me wondering if he actually likes me or not! We are honest and forthcoming with each other and communicate very regularly about uncomfortable things: his girlfriend and living arrangements, his tax situation (most recently), the fact that I will probably be roommates with Things #1 and #2 for quite some time yet… I expect we will continue to be transparent with each other, because that is our foundation.
Last week I started the process of filing for a divorce.
I told Doom-n-Gloom on Sunday morning.
I woke up at 6:30 and my plan was to make my breakfast and get some cleaning done in the kitchen before he woke up. Then, I would give *him* some time to wake up and eat and have his coffee. Once I knew he was fully awake, I was going to sit down and talk to him.
It didn’t work out that way at all — even though I was very quiet while I was working, he woke up on his own. After using the bathroom, Doom-n-Gloom walked into the kitchen and stood behind me quietly (he does that a lot with me and Thing #1 — creepily standing a couple feet behind us and not saying a word until we do, then he grunts and walks away). I rinsed off a plate in the sink and said, “Good morning” and (as I thought) he responded with a grunt.
Without turning around to look at him, I said, “After you’ve had a chance to wake up and have your coffee and eat and stuff, I need to talk to you about something important.”
“Why don’t you just tell me now?” was his response.
I took a deep breath and told him that he was probably going to want to sit down.
Yesterday was one of the worst days I have had for a long time. I will admit my part in the badness of it all, but I will not take full responsibility! Sometimes I just can’t bear his negativity and conceit.
There are several reasons I don’t talk much about Mr. Doom-n-Gloom here. The biggest one being: he brings out the ugly in me and makes me very unhappy and I really don’t like dwelling on the things that cause unhappiness for me. I am trying to focus on happiness and gratitude while Doom-n-Gloom is still focused on negativity and gloating and being happy when others are sad.
- He is contradictory and belligerent
- His arrogance and conceit are immeasurable
- He burps and then blows the burp-breath right into my face, stale cigarette breath, too (it’s like he does it on purpose)
- He shits on the toilet seat (pees on the bathroom floor) and refuses to clean it up
- He will not get a driver’s license or a government issued ID
- He is seemingly unable to turn OFF a single fucking light (or oven), even though he could muster up the strength and intelligence to turn it ON
- He is morbidly lazy
- He barely contributes to the household and, when he does, he complains about having to do it
Yesterday was his day to be completely contradictory and belligerent. Just for the sake of it.
To begin… Before grocery shopping, we drove past a prairie dog mound. There was an unusually large hill in the middle and Doom-n-Gloom made a comment on it. I giggled a little because I immediately thought about government and Watership Down (my favorite book of ALL TIME!). The first thing I said was, “It kind of reminds me of our government. The rich and powerful people on top and the people on the bottom getting overlooked.”
Doom-n-Gloom’s response was, “That’s wrong. On this hill, the guardian dogs on top can see everyone and everything. Therefore the prairie dogs on the bottom are more safe.”
I said, “There are too many prairie dogs on the bottom or the guardian dogs to see them all and what about snakes? How can the guardians on top see them?”
“The snakes would only eat the baby prairie dogs. The adults would be safe.”
“But I thought that you said that the guardian dogs on top would be able to see everyone and protect all of them. Doesn’t that include their babies?” This entire analogy was just fun for me and it’s something that I do frequently. I was a little shocked that he was unable to see my point here; or at least play along. He has been married to me for 20 fucking years! He knows what my favorite book is!
Eventually I agreed to disagree with him and tried to change the subject.
He continued to be completely obtuse about it for the rest of the drive to the grocery store and then slammed the door and stomped off once we got there. Later Thing #2 told me that she talked to Doom-n-Gloom while they were in the store and she tried to explain my point to him and that I was just trying to have fun. He was obtuse with her as well.
This was just the tip of the iceberg. It is something that I would normally be able to completely blow off while they were in the store. In fact, I had. The two of them got back into the truck when they finished and we were driving back to the house.
I don’t know how the subject came up, but it did. He started talking about Duck Dynasty and was gloating over how their “show was cancelled” because the father was so homo-phobic. (I know nothing about any of the Duck Dynasty Drama, I am just telling you about our argument.)
I don’t follow that show and I don’t care about that crap. Their family is on TV so they are subject to judgement all the time, but honestly I can only think: Who am I to judge them. I don’t know them and they are not my friends and they aren’t hurting me or the people I love in any way. I don’t give a shit about it. Even a little bit. It’s none of my business because I don’t watch the show.
As he was finishing up his diatribe on how much he hates the entire Duck Dynasty (he doesn’t watch the show either), it dawned on me that his was sounding exactly like the liberal version of my conservative parents: totally judgmental and absolutely hypocritical; not knowing anything about what they are saying.
I basically asked him why he gives a shit about it. And told him pretty much what I just told you about how it’s none of our business really and why.
Again, I agreed to disagree and he huffed off when we got home.
The worst part happened when I got into the apartment and dropped one of the grocery bags on the floor. It happened to have breakable things in it and Doom-n-Gloom freaked out. Nothing was broken. I apologized for dropping it and (I thought) we went on our merry business: him unpacking the groceries and me cleaning up the Christmas mass in the Living Room.
It wasn’t two minutes before Doom-n-Gloom started mumbling about how I intentionally dropped the bag to break his things.
I completely lost it. I started going off on him for a comment he made to the cashier at the store about how he had a miserable Christmas and it would be at least 4 years before he would have a good one again.
(It turns out that I completely misheard him and that he was “generally” talking about “teenagers”. But how was I supposed to know? He’s so ungrateful and miserable all the time. It’s like he intentionally focuses on unhappiness. I swear!)
I explained to him how hurt I was by that comment because I did everything in my power to make it a happy Christmas for them. I bought special gifts for everyone that involved a lot of thought and he didn’t get me anything! Not one fucking thing.
I bought at least 4 gifts for everyone, all things that each of them wanted but didn’t need. I made Christmas dinner, and the awesome dessert that followed. I even cleaned up my fucking mess in the kitchen (which is more than I can say about Doom-n-Gloom whenever he cooks a turkey!!)!
Both of my daughters made me things because they didn’t have enough money to buy me something. Thy were so sweet!
But Doom-n-Gloom got me nothing at all. Not even a gift “from the girls”.
I was hurt.
In fact, I still am. But that is not the meaning of Christmas, and I know that. The meaning of Christmas is giving and loving and not being selfish. I had a lovely Christmas. It was beautiful watching my daughters open their presents not knowing what to expect.
I just wish that Doom-n-Gloom could occasionally show some gratitude and kindness instead of walking around with a cloud of foulness stinking up his demeanor while trying to spread the doom and gloom like peanut butter on toast. It’s starting to rub off on Thing #2.
Remember my post the other day?
I’m pretty sure that Loverman didn’t direct that post at me!…
Loverman hasn’t really slept at home for over 4 weeks. There are a couple of days/hours here and there, but I think it has actually probably been more like 8… He says it’s because of his truck (it’s going to get repo’d and he doesn’t want them to be able to find it), but I know that’s not totally it.
According to Loverman, Diva (The Wife) hasn’t said anything to him about why he’s gone so much (I know that if he were MY husband I would want to freaking know where he was staying all the time!); even when there are opportunities. Just last night he was laughing about how funny it is that they haven’t said anything to each other for weeks and the first (and only) thing she does say to him is: “the disposal’s broken” and that’s the end of it.
She didn’t even know he was out of the state for 3 days for our sk8-venture! It doesn’t matter if she knew he was with me… She didn’t know he was gone at all! Even *I* told Mr. Doom-n-Gloom! I told him I was going with Loverman and everything — he just thought there were 4 other people that went with us.
I guess there’s really no need for me to be jealous of his wife any more, huh?
Loverman doesn’t post on Facebook very often, but when he does…!!!
This is what he posted Monday morning while he was stuck at work:
Need I say more?
Checking my newsfeed makes me sad
I am a member of two roller skating groups
Where people talk about how much fun they had skating last night
Or they post pictures and videos of having fun skating
I am very jealous of them
I got my skates out yesterday and put them on
And sat on the couch staring at my feet in them
They still fit…
Two more weeks before I find out if I’m un-broken enough to skate in them again
Loverman got himself a Smart Phone
Now he’s on Facebook, too
Last night I went to his page and saw that he entered that he is married
I was upset
My heart sank
I texted him to call me when he got up for work
The waiting minutes oozed by like a molasses mudslide
In my mind I chanted, “Breathe… You’re being silly…” “Breathe… You’re being silly…”
“Breathe… You’re being silly…”
Because I was
My sweet Loverman called me at 9:30
I asked him when is your wedding anniversary
He asked me why
Because you posted on Facebook that you are married
That’s because I am married, sweetie
…I know and I feel silly for getting upset. I just hate to be reminded.
Why did you have to put it there? Forget it… It’s silly…
Thank you for calling me… I’m sorry that I’m upset.
I miss you baby and wish that you could give me a hug.
Awwww, baby, that’s sweet. I miss you, too. Maybe I’ll see you Tuesday morning.
I think I have to be up in your neighborhood for an appointment. I will give you that hug as soon as I can.
I felt a little better and also a little sillier
But it sure would be nice to feel his strong, reassuring arms holding me tight against him
And possibly a little more 😉
Facebook is just a big, rotten reminder of what I can’t do
And what I can’t have
I think it’s time to take Facebook off my list of things to check before I go to bed
I don’t talk about Loverman’s wife (aka Diva) here very much. Just the occasional jealous post, etc… I have never met her, I have never seen her, I have never even been to their house, but I know where it is. Loverman is trying to protect me, but both his wife and step-son know about me — in the same way that my family knows about him.
You know how yesterday I wrote that things are changing? Lately I can see that his marriage has been changing, too. And not in the good way.
His step-son, “C”, missed 48 days of school before winter break this year — if you put all the days together, that’s over 9 school weeks missed out of 15! Loverman had been keeping track of the missed days and started thinking about the consequences for C if he didn’t start going to school. One day he went into the office to see how bad it really was and the Assistant Principal said that if C comes to school every single day for the rest of the year and completes all his homework assignments and shows that he’s making and effort to learn he MIGHT get to move on to the next grade next fall. OMG!! When Loverman brought it up with Diva, she said “That’s my son and I am a grown woman. I know exactly what’s going on with him and I am taking care of it.” Loverman was really pissed that she was taking her son’s education so lightly and, now, has taken the responsibility onto himself to make sure that his step-son C gets a reasonable education. But, the poor boy’s mother doesn’t seem to give a flying you-know-what!
I find that entire situation strange on her part because Diva spent a large part of the summer last year trying to find a good school for C to attend — one that had a good reputation, etc…
She is going out more regularly with her friends to bars (Loverman says that her friends are cross-dressing men that like to go to the gay clubs… I don’t know if that relevant or not, just throwing it out there…). She always liked the club scene, but when they first got married she stopped for a while. When he mentioned that she hasn’t been checking in with them (Loverman and C) when she leaves and gets home, she retorted “I am a grown woman. I don’t need a man telling me what to do.” (That’s what he told me, but I have no reason not to believe him. He’s a truthful man.)
The past three months she has gotten three speeding tickets in the mail and she just got her driver’s license back last spring from it being suspended. In the 7 years that they have been married she has not told him why her license was suspended, just when she would be allowed to get it back.
She crashed into a highway sign on the off-ramp by her house, but she wasn’t caught. The only reason we know is because of the green paint scuffs under the front bumper, the skid marks in front of the sign and the damage to the sign itself. Loverman says he thinks she’s driving home drunk when she leaves the clubs… Two of those speeding tickets were from late at night.
Sometimes I fantasize about trading spouses. You know, like Wife Swap, only husbands and permanent! I’ve joked about it with Loverman before. It’s just that now I think he might be starting to think the same thing…
Once upon a time there was a wife
Who found a spouse to share her life
He wasn’t the right man
He didn’t do all he can
So the wife went a-searching
Because a new self was emerging
She found a better gent
And to him she went
But they couldn’t be together
His marriage also a tether
And together withstood
Still the wife and gent are best friends
After four years of turns and bends
Their true love prevailed
Where their marriages failed
I really hate the way my husband treats me! He doesn’t ever hurt me physically, he’s just not considerate or kind — I have no idea why I chose to marry him. Honestly… <humongous sigh>
Sometimes it’s so difficult to stay calm and be reasonable when I am “dealing with” him. I just have to walk away because arguing (if it can be called that — I don’t know what else to call it) is a waste. And, what’s the point of telling him that he’s a complete douche-nozzle?
I should have written this rant last night. I was really upset and totally ready to fire off some mean shit, but I didn’t have the privacy… Now I am just so sick and tired of him — sad, huh? I just want to scream mean things at him and then throw all of his shit out of our 3rd story apartment window. (my daughters and I refer to that as a “ghetto breakup”. We lived in a fairly bad neighborhood for about 12 years before we moved to CO — many, many times we saw this happen.)
I am sure that I am blowing things out of proportion because I am a girl and I get too emotional because I am dealing with a lot of stupid shit right now with the broken ankle, but I am hella-angry with that man and I don’t think I am going to get less angry with him any time soon (especially if he continues acting like a butt-hurt teenage girl).
It doesn’t help that Loverman that takes really good care of me (when he can). The way he treats me is the way I think you are supposed to treat people you care about.
Loverman and I traded vehicles Sunday because my truck is a manual and his car is an automatic. This was so I can still get to work without Loverman having to drive me all over hell and back (because, remember, my shithead husband doesn’t have his stupid fucking driver’s license!!!). Loverman brought his car to my place after he finished work Sunday afternoon. We talked outside for a while — it was a gorgeous day and the fresh air was nice… After about an hour I started to feel like I really needed to go back in and lie down, so I did. I thought that loaning me his car was nice all on its own, but GUESS WHAT?!?! He didn’t just loan me his car — he basically moved me into it! After I went back inside Loverman took everything that I could ever want/need out of my truck and moved it over to his car!!! He did this for me — not because I asked for it or because I needed him to but because he wanted to! He didn’t tell me what he did — I just found everything yesterday morning when I was on my way to work. Of course I cried tears of happiness! I am so sappy! I was so touched that he would do such a thoughtful thing for me. I am so lucky — and I most definitely thanked him for being so awesome!
Here is how “well” Mr. Doom-n-Gloom takes care of me: (please note that on Saturday night, after I got back from the ER, the husband told me that I am not to do anything even remotely difficult while I am recovering. I HAVE to ask someone instead of just doing it myself). After you read this, please let me know WTF? Okay?
Thing #2 was already doing something for me up in my loft, getting it ready for me to be up there “for the night” — setting out my PJs, making sure my water glass was full, etc… (I am SO glad my daughters are not like my husband!!!)
So, I say to Doom-n-Gloom (DNG), “Can you please grab the ice pack out of the freezer for me to bring upstairs? It’s really hard for me to get around in our tiny kitchen.”
He makes some noises in the freezer. I thought he was rustling around for the ice pack. So I waited patiently in the doorway of the kitchen for him to hand it to me.
He closed the freezer, looked at me, nodded, and then walked straight past me into his bedroom (at least he didn’t slam the door…)
I was like: WTF?! Ok, I guess I’ll just get it myself. (I didn’t say anything because it really wasn’t that big of a deal – yet… I’m a pick-your-battles kind of girl and I am sick of battling him…)
DNG came back out of his room to get something else and noticed that I was digging through the freezer. He asked, “Why didn’t you ask me to get that for you? You shouldn’t be doing that.”
ME: I did ask you to get it for me when you were standing there at the freezer. Then you walked right past me and off into your room, so I just did it myself.
DNG: You say it like I made a conscious choice not to help you. You know if I had heard what you said, I would have gotten the ice pack for you.
ME: Actually I don’t know that. But I don’t want to get into this right now because this really isn’t a good time for me (emotionally I am running pretty random right now. And on top of the broken ankle, I just got my period!).
DNG: What does that mean? When would be a good time for you?
ME: I mean that I have asked you to help me quite a few times (even times that I know you heard me) and you haven’t done those things. And a good time for me to have this conversation would be never.
DNG: Whatever! I haven’t heard you asking me for things. (DUH!!!!!) Plus, you’re too stubborn to ask me for help, anyway — you’d just rather do it yourself. Give me an example of your “quite a few times“.
ME: If that’s what you tell yourself to feel better about not helping me, okay… And, yes, I would rather do it myself. Having to deal with this crap is total bullshit and I would rather not have all this drama every time I want a light turned off! Here’s your freaking example:
- I have been asking you, since we moved in together, to turn off the lights/TV/radio/etc when you leave a room that you are not returning to. Last night (Monday), after I got home from the Doctor and the DMV, I had to come downstairs three times to shut off lights that you left on when you went back into your bedroom — I tried calling out to you several times to have you turn them off yourself, but apparently again “you did not hear me”.
- I have been asking you, since we moved in together, to wipe your urine off the toilet seat and floor whenever you miss the toilet so I don’t have to walk/sit/fall in it. This morning, after you seemingly missed the toilet completely, my crutch slipped in the wetness and I almost fell down. After that, I had the awesome opportunity to clean your pee up off the floor (and off of my temporary “cast”) and the seat — just like you were 5 years old and had an “accident” before you could make it to the bathroom.
- I have been asking you, since we moved in together, to clean your explosive diarrhea out of the toilet and to wipe your shit off the back of the seat when you are done. Monday night I had to lay on the floor, directly in front of the NASTY, shit-sprayed toilet seat and bowl because Thing #1 was going to try and wash my hair and laying there was the easiest way. Needless to say, I had the fantastic opportunity yet again to clean your shit up, literally — unless I wanted to lay there staring at your explosive shit while I was getting my hair washed (in some countries you have to pay extra for shit like that – LMBO! but, seriously…)
Would you like me to go on? I can say something about all the times I have asked you, since we moved in together, to rinse the food off your plate/s before you put it/them in the sink to dry up for 3 days… Or, I can mention all the times I have asked you, since we moved in together, not to leave your clothes and GIANT WORK BOOTS laying all over the floor — because (right now especially) those things are tripping me up and getting in my way (literally! You know, crutches…).
Can you kind of see why I am so frustrated with you and why I don’t bother with asking you for help?
DNG: It would be frustrating if that’s how it went.
ME: Well, I wish that you could see that’s how it goes for us. But, regardless, those are the reasons I am reluctant to ask you for your help. Given your track record, I cannot count on you to deliver.
DNG: Well, that’s your choice to feel that way.
ME: Yes, it is my choice. I choose not to trust you because you haven’t earned it. I choose to not let you help me because helping me is a privilege. And taking care of me is an entitlement that you have proven you cannot handle.
Am I wrong here? Should I continue to keep giving Mr. Doom-n-Gloom opportunities to disappoint me? Because I can honestly say that I think this broken ankle only happened to show me how incredibly self-absorbed and unkind and inconsiderate the husband really is.
In yesterday’s post I said that a wonderful friend of mine “knows something great will be coming from this” [broken ankle]. I am thinking that the “wonderful thing” might just be me finally standing up and telling the husband that I no longer want to share my life with him, that I am sick of constantly being disappointed by him, that I no longer want to clean up and/or fix his messes, that I am ready to be “free” of him and his emotional manipulation…