Sunday, June 10, 2007
It was 1983---I had been married for four years and had a three year old daughter. I was 23, my husband was 33. We had a pretty good marriage, he was the older one, I took most of my direction from him---it seemed a natural fit, almost like a father. I loved him----and he knew it, each and every day. We had a small circle of friends, I had not been overly social growing up, but the few that we did hand around with were good friends, we had alot of fun together. Husband worked with them, I worked elsewhere. One weekend, we made plans to go away together, but I was unable to get away from work. He decided to go anyway, which was unusual. I was young then, I didn't ask many questions. I was okay with it. They were gone for two nights, and I didn't hear from Husband except for one, short, terse, tense phone call. It worried me, his strange mood, but then all of his moods worried me, because if Husband was upset, EVERYONE was upset. The moods were generally directed at me, or at least taken out on me, and I reacted ALWAYS trying to fix things. Everything. He got home late on Sunday, and he was in a foul mood. As usual, I pussyfooted around him, trying to figure out what was wrong, but he went to bed. On Monday morning, the same thing. We both went to work, and I went on about my day. After work, I picked our daughter up from daycare, went home to make dinner. He was not there. Unusual. I cooked and waited, and he was still not there. I called the friends that he had spent the weekend with. I was quite worried, he ALWAYS came home, he was never late, but then he had been acting quite strange. Talking with the friend on the phone, I could tell that SOMETHING was wrong, as they sounded cold, distant, and rather pissy with me. They had not seen him after work. I didn't know what to do, but I knew that the friends knew what the hell was up. So, I took daughter and drove over there. They looked rather sheepish and surprised to see me. I screamed that I wanted to know what the hell was going on...and the male half of the couple, who really was a good, good guy, sat me down and asked how our marriage was going. I told him things were fine, great, except for the past few days, which I had no idea why, or what was going on. He very gently told me that husband had spent the weekend with them at this great hotel a couple of hours away, WITH ANOTHER PARTY FROM OUR GROUP, a single woman that I didn't know too well, that worked with husband and friends. I was stunned. STUNNED. He went on to explain that Husband had told them that we were separating, our marriage was over. That certainly was news to me----as things had been just fine. I assumed that he was currently with her, and asked where to find her---and friend have me Betty's address. Betty, how I fucking hate that name to this day---it sounds old, and ugly, but I am getting ahead of myself. So I left daughter with friends and I drove to her home. It was a nice place, and there was the little red 1965 corvette that husband drove, sitting right there, plain as day, in the driveway. I knocked, and her daughter answered the door. She was about twelve---I had met her before, she had been to my house with her mother once before, when we had a barbecue for friends. I asked to see her mother, and she told me that her mother was "busy". I pushed my way past her, went into the kitchen, which was a freaking' wreck, they had obviously had a fried chicken dinner, and all things were left where they were, three plates, three glasses, bowls still half full sitting on the dining table. I had never been there before, but I assumed that they were upstairs as I didn't see them anywhere, so I went upstairs, with the daughter telling me that I couldn't do that. There was one closed door---and I burst through it. There was my husband, in a bed, with that fucking woman. Naked---both of them, but he was trying to get his underwear on, and not succeeding very well. She laid there like she was made of stone, afraid to move, covers pulled up to her chin. I just stood there, and I didn't say anything for a minute.....and he was sputtering and stammering, and still trying to get those damned underwear on both legs. I very quietly said "at my house, we clean up the dinner dishes before we fuck." He started screaming at me to get the hell out---and I asked him how he liked forty year old saggy tits, to which he replied something really ugly...and I hit him. In the face, with my inch long fingernails, and drew blood right down the side of his face, then I left. I drove back and picked up my daughter and went home. That has to be one of the ugliest memories I have, and I have many. I couldn't understand what he wanted with HER. She was old, fat, not very attractive. I was young, and back then, pretty damned hot. I learned alot from that experience. Alot. In many ways, it has shaped what i am today. I don't trust anyone, and I mean ANYONE. I also learned that there are many women that can and will lure stupid men away....not all men....just the stupid ones. I also learned that I don't like drama, and I will no longer participate in it, because that scene wasn't pretty. He eventually came home that night, slept on the couch, and I threw his ass out in the morning. We separated and divorced. Three months after we were divorced, I married him again. I know, I know. It's a long story, that involves love and stupidity, and fear of losing my daughter, as I still believed his shit, to a degree. We went on to have two more children, and many, many good years before it happened again. Fool me once, shame on you, Fool me twice, shame on ME, but how can I feel that way when I have two more of the greatest kids on this planet? I loved him, through and through. Dumb, dumb, dumb, but not really. I would probably do it again....without a few of the "rough spots, that is. We eventually divorced for the last time in 1993. Live and learn. Love and learn. Same damned thing.