Well, out of some debt I feel I owe to my personal sense of creativity, it feels like I should write today. As Mondays are now a sacred day of alone time for me (it’s the one day my husband works into the evening).
I felt like I should explain something, but while trying to keep my anonymity thing going.
So my side chick wasn’t a woman, I hope you’ve gathered that much by this point, but I refer to him as such because it kind of accurately describes what was going on. I mean, I will admit that the time in my life when I most wanted my marriage to end was also when I was full throttle with fuckstick but really they’re not as related as you’d think. Because, well for starting my problem with my husband was his uncontrollable alcoholism, and his quitting drinking was definitely the starting point for what saved us. BUT even IF things had somehow ended, say we’d never had that talk, or he just didn’t have it in him to quit drinking, the LAST person I would’ve been willing to end up with is fuckcandy. Okay lets call him R so I can stop thinking of funny and accurate things to call him. Because I felt like I was an example in a textbook…. Subject C has an alcoholic, emotionally abusive father throughout her childhood, what type of men do you think she goes after in her mid-to-late 20s? I’ll give you one guess. If you’d like to have an analogy, when it comes to my husband and R and their relative cases of alcoholism, my husband is like….DEMF (you know, when it was cool before they renamed it Movement) and R is fucking Coachella is Beyonce was going to be there. My husband had the great fortune of never having gotten into any legal trouble involving alcohol, and he’d never been hospitalized because of drinking. But R? OMG I cannot begin to…he was one of those people who woke up in the ER of a hospital completely without memory of how he got there more once (the cops would get called by a bar owner or one of his friends because he was so wasted it was freaking them out, but the cops would want to be nice so they took him to the ER instead of the drunk tank). Of course R also acquired TWO DUIs while we were ‘together.’ Both times he was driving to meet people he rarely hung out with and he was already shitfaced before they even called him, so he was on his way to drink while already wasted and got pulled over. He’s lucky he never killed anyone. I’m sure one day he will kill himself with booze, somehow. That’s not my problem. I don’t like people who blame their actions on other people. That shit is up to you.
Then, on top of his heaping legal troubles due to his drinking, there’s also the many, many injuries he suffered due to going about shitfaced. He split the underside of his chin on a stairwell handrail, he was being carried by an equally drunk friend then was dropped onto his neck on the curb outside the bar, he was walking downstairs shitfaced at his grandma’s house and fell down her basement stairs and was found unconscious about half an hour afterwards. These are the ones that are coming to mind right away.
In a way, the chaos seemed familiar. Plus, I had so much of my own life that I was trying to disassociate from, it was nice to be distracted. And distracted I was.
It’s been almost two years now, since we were really in our heyday (is that how that’s spelled?) but even now I’m still just mortified at what I put up with. It sucks when your memories haunt you because it feels like your sacrifice your dignity at every wake and turn.
I guess R has been on my mind more lately because he out of the blue facebook messaged me the other day. He claimed to just wonder how I was doing. Right sure because he cared so much about that before. A person can pretend like they love/care about someone, but if you’re jaded enough (and spoiler, I am) you SEE that what they really love is having someone to drag down with them. I mean, I cut my parents out of my life, completely, 100%, but this fucker doesn’t think I have it in me to ignore his pleas for attention? I know I don’t SEEM like I have a breaking point, because I really do take SO much shit, but surprise, fuckers, I DO end up snapping. Not in a go crazy kind of way, but in a “NYOPE, I am done with you, mother fucker” sort of way. To put into context, I know I would never want to piss off someone like me.
Maybe one day I’ll go into more detail about R. I really don’t want to, but I would assume a normal person would find it interesting. I think.