Some of the best writing comes from the most outrageous drama in ones life. Sometimes I sit down to write, and find that there just isn’t anything to say. I don’t find that to be a terrible thing at all, but it’s hard to put emotion into your words when everything is running so smoothly. What is there to talk about if I don’t harp on my past? That’s where all of the bad things have happened, and for the most part I’ve done really well at leaving my past behind me. It’s a major feat, as I have always been one to drag it along with me, wherever I go.
Today I went couponing as it was Super Doubles and I love the challenge of getting the most groceries that I can for the cheapest amount. Then I drove home marveling at the fact that I’m married to the most wonderful man in the world. I bought chicken wings so I can fry some up for him tonight with the recipe that he loves. I decided to making tacos for dinner. I cleaned the guinea pig cage and took a shower. And that’s about it. I’m watching Lifetime while blogging (they are doing a VC Andrews movie marathon), and that’s about it. That’s the extent of my day. That’s hardly anything to brag about.
I just saw a commercial on Lifetime for “Little Women of ATL” …. it’s a group of african american midgets. Now I remember why I prefer to read books over watching TV. It literally makes me cringe when I see stupid shit like that.
I’ve been wrestling with this idea the past few days. I’m in a dilemma that I can’t quite figure out. But there’s a backstory to all of this.
You see, there was a guy I dated after my husband left to go back to his home state. I dated him for a little under a year and a half, until my husband announced that he was moving back here, and that he wanted to get married. He was so vastly different from me. He was this country guy that had been sheltered by his mother for almost thirty years. He was so smart in the ways of books and knowledge. He was such a child in ways of the streets and what life was about. When I met him, he was going through a heartbreak of his own. He told me he was broken. I responded that I was too. I told him that I wasn’t looking for forever love, but I just wanted someone that could maybe help put me back together and I could hopefully do the same for them.
The first time I pulled up to his house, it broke my heart. The house is over a hundred years old without many major improvements. One dilapidated bathroom where the floors were slanted and rotting away. No insulation. His mother was in a nursing facility, and he lived there with his older brother. He wasn’t working and he had no car. He was on unemployment at the time. None of that bothered me. I’ve always been the type of person that wants to show people how much better their lives can be, by example. I looked around the small, dead-end town and realized that his options were limited in way of career choices. I wanted to help him.
A few months into our dating, I brought him out to my house in the city. He’d never been into the city. The first time we went to the mall, he thought Sears WAS the mall. He nearly had a sensory overload when we stepped out into the main part of the mall and he saw all of the stores. It was scary and exciting for him.
Our relationship wasn’t without its problems. He had never had a serious relationship before. The last girl that broke up with him and merely been a girl he’d been sleeping with that also had a boyfriend. They were all living together and while the boyfriend was at work, they would do whatever it is that they did. Naturally, when they got caught and it came down to choosing between him and her boyfriend, she chose her boyfriend. She took none of the blame, and so it ended.
Eventually he stayed at my house more and more, until about six months later he moved in with me. It made more sense, and he was able to find a job in the city working at a gas station. Things fell into a flow with us. The sex was terrible, and he had hangups that he often took out on me. We got into an argument one time as to why I wouldn’t let my daughter wear Marlboro T-shirt in public. All of our arguments were so totally blown out of proportion because he was brought up to argue out of anger. He never put his hands on me, but he called me names. I was materialistic, spoiled, a bitch, etc ….. he didn’t understand why I had to have nice things. He didn’t understand why I would come home exhausted from work from trying to prove myself so that I could move up and make more money. He didn’t understand why I traded my leased car in at the end of its term so that I could lease another brand new car, rather than just finance the car I had and be almost done paying on it. We really were from opposite sides of the track. He was having a difficult time adapting to my mindset. I was having a difficult time breaking him from his small-town shell.
We did have good times, though. I remember one weekend we made pallets on the floor and watch the Harry Potter Marathon on TV. We pigged out on summer sausage and cheese. I took him to the beach for the first time in his life. We laughed hysterically has the waves pummeled him, and he washed up face-first on the shore time after time. I took him on the ferry, which was the first time he’d ever been on a boat. We did have some good times.
One afternoon my sister-in-law brought a makeup bag over that I’d ordered from her. I went into his wallet and got a twenty out. When he found out he flew into a rage and called me a spoiled bitch. He took all of his money out of his wallet and threw it at me and said that since I was a money hungry bitch, I could have it all. Nevermind that I was paying all of the bills and utilities. He’s job at the gas station paid minimum wage at best, and we used his paychecks to buy food sometimes, but otherwise he was pretty stingy with his money. I thought that since we were in a relationship, it was perfectly normal to go into his wallet. I’d never had a problem with letting anyone I dated go into my wallet. It was something that threw me for a loop.
One day he left his Facebook page up on the desktop. When I got on the computer, one of the messages he had been engaged in the previous night after I had gone to bed, was still on the computer. It was another female that he knew in Illinois. He was saying all of these things to her that were inappropriate. How much he wished he could make love to her the right way, how important she was to him. I felt the color drain out of my face. It wasn’t so much that I was upset that he was doing this. It was the fact that it was happening to me again. He knew how I felt about cheating. He knew my past and what I’d been through with the countless other men. I was very calm when I told him what I found. He stood up and tried to come to me to hold him. I told him not to touch me. I was disgusted with him and what he had done. He gave the usual lines “she meant nothing.” and “it isn’t what you think – I had been drinking. I’m sorry.” It was at that point that I started to slowly let him go. I loved him in my own way, but I wasn’t in love with him, and so letting him go romantically wasn’t very difficult.
A few months later one of his old cell phones made a low battery chirp warning from his nightstand. He was working third shift that night, and I rolled over to dig the phone out of his drawer so I could turn it off. When the screen lit up, I saw a porno show up on the screen. Porn doesn’t bother me. But he was not that interested in sex with me, so to find porn on his phone pissed me off. I looked through the history and discovered that his porn addiction wasn’t just rampant, but he watched the oddest shit I’ve ever seen. Things I don’t even want to think about. I sent him a text message telling him that his old cell phone was left on and I saw his porn fetishes. More excuses, more lies, more reasoning that made no sense to me.
But the problem wasn’t really with his porn. It was the fact that I didn’t really care. Almost every night that I would go to bed, I’d cry myself to sleep, missing my husband. While he was gone from my life, he was never gone from my heart. I was living with a man that I got along with for the most part, but neither of us loved the other like we deserved. I had also noticed that this guy had no ambitions to climb his way up the career ladder. He was presented opportunities to be an assistant manager and to make more money, but he turned them down. He was content being a clerk, making minimum wage, with as little responsibility as he could get away with. That didn’t sit well with me. That form of laziness never has.
His mother passed away in Februrary of 2015. I was just about to break the news to him that I wanted to end our relationship, and that perhaps it was time for him to go home. She got sick and we went up to the hospital. His mom loved me, and I really liked her. She was a sweet woman that had a rough life and did the best she could. After she passed away, I couldn’t break the news that I wanted to end things, because he was so devastated about his mom dying, that it just didn’t seem like the right time.
About a month later, while we were both high as a kite (a recreational activity I had taken on as a way to escape the pain and lonliness) I told him that our time had come to an end. He was upset. He didn’t understand. He said he loved me. I told him that I knew he did, but we didn’t love each other the way real love is supposed to be. He resisted that idea. I knew he was just comfortable with the life provided to him, and he didn’t want to go back to his small town full of conflict within his family. I gave him thirty days to figure it out. For those next 30 days there were a lot of tears, a lot of yelling. I cried and he did too.
Fast forward almost two years later. He’s still living in his old family home with his brother. No car, no job. We still talk online occasionally, especially when he’s having a bad day and his head is getting in the way of rational judgement. Most of the time they’re hungry. They have no heat going to the house and using kerosene heaters when they have the money for kerosene, that is. I haven’t seen him since the day he moved out.
When I get my tax refund, I thought about going to the butcher shop and getting the hundred dollar meat bundle and driving it down to his house for him and his brother. I hate the idea of them going hungry because they don’t have the money to get food. But, I don’t know how my husband would feel about it. And I don’t know if it’s something that I should even do. My ex-boyfriend has had ample time to get his life together and he hasn’t. He is no better off now than he was before I found him. Everything that I have, I have worked my ass for. When The Abuser threw me and my daughter out, I had our clothes and my car. That’s it. We had nothing else. I had to start all over again, and I learned a lesson from that. That was one thing that this guy could never understand. Yes, I had nice things. But it wasn’t because I was spoiled, it was because I worked for them and paid for them.
But do I help him?? The thought of them being hungry tears me apart. The thought of him not doing anything to better his life, pisses me off.