Scenes From a Marriage - Part Three

I wanted to find some humor in this string - because humor is important, and nothing in life is devoid of humor — but I could not find real humor.  Like, a pie in the face or stepping in dog shit.  There was none of that.

The things I remember are the rough times.  Like, when I was ironing shirts and pants for my week of work, and she said, “If you think I’m going to iron your shirts, you’ve got another think coming.”

Well - there I was, with the iron in my hand - ironing.  What other “think” did I have coming? That was early on, and I should have figured it out.

The time she told me, “I am disappoionted in you,” I had no idea what she was saying, only that she was probably comparing me to her father, which was both unfair and unjust.

I never figured out who I was supposed to be, only that whenever we went for “a walk” I knew that there was something about my personality that she wanted to change.

The sad part is that, perhaps I should have been the one who was asking her to go for a walk, since she was the one with more to change than I?  But, I digress. 

The times that she said, “We need to go for a walk,” which was code for “I have something I want to change about you, and we need to talk about it.”  My problem was, I was too weak and needy to refuse her stupid demands.  And, when somebody says, “I like you, except ...” you need to run, because you aren’t that important unless they can change you into something that they want.

For the record, when I met her, she had some coarse chin hairs, and was in the process of having them cosmetically removed via laser.  She tole me, “You’ve been nice enough not to mention it.”  I remember specifically, that we were on our way to dinner at my mom’s house, and it’s one of those things that a person remembers. Some things.

I never brought it up, because I knew there was nothing I could do about it.  I accompanied her to the “laser removal” place - whatever it’s called - and stood by while they blasted the hair off.

I also stood by while she went back to school to get her Engineering degree at Drexel.  She would spend nights at class, and most weekends at the library preparing for her exams.  She would call (hard wire, remember?) and tell me “I’m on my way” and I would start preparing Shake & Bake chicken, vegetables, and salad for her arrival home.  I got almost zero credit for that.

Not that I was perfect - far from it. In the meantime, I was tempted by women in my life who knew that I was struggling.  It’s not easy folks.  Put yourself in my place, if you can, and you will find yourself tempted as well.  Or. Maybe you wouldn’t.  You may not be as flawed as I.

How easily would it have been for you to deal with these issues and still remain loyal to a person who was clearly not devoted to you?

Scenes From a Marriage - Part Two

OK, so — how does a relationship fall apart? Glad you asked. It falls apart gradually, until finally, the pieces cannot be sewn together. When it happens, you know it. I knew it, and the gradual effect was not evident until the end.

It comes upon you gradually. One incident: I was sitting in a side room, listening (on headphones) to a song by David Sylvian. The lyrics got to me:

I fall outside of her
She doesn't notice
I fall outside of her
She doesn't notice at all

And mine is an empty bed
I think she's forgotten.

I was weeping. She heard me, and came into the room. “What is it now?” She asked, in an accusatory tone.
“You don’t love me anymore,” was my reply.
A moment passed, and she just turned and walked out. My suspicions confirmed.

Much later - or perhaps soon, I cannot recall - she had planned a trip to visit her old college roommate (see part one) and her now husband and their new baby in Houston. Being a child of the space program, I volunteered to accompany her.
“Oh man - I’d love to go to Houston,” I said.
“No - you’ll be bored. It’s just going to be me, Jane (her sister) and the baby,” she said.
“I’ll rent a car, go the Johnson Space Center. You can do what you want. You’ll never know I was there.”
“No. We aren’t going to do anything. Just visit with the baby.” So I was told.
OK, then. I was never a fan of the separate vacations. Always thought it was a symptom of a failing relationship. After all, what’s the point of going on vacation by yourself? I let her go.

While I spent a five-day weekend at home alone, I stewed over the decision, but figured, “Well - maybe I would be bored.” Um.

She got home, and greeted me with ... a t-shirt and program from ... The (fucking) Johnson Space (fucking) Center. And, a receipt from some water park outside of Houston and a botanical garden of some sort. Where was the baby in all of this?

I was furious. Not only did she lie to me about the trip, but she brought home souvenirs from the one place that I wanted to see, and thought that I would be happy to see it.
In a fit of Herculean strength, I tore the program in half - and threw the t-shirt in her face, proclaiming, “Give this to one of your friends at work!” I have no idea what happened to the shirt, but I know that the program wound up in the recycling bin.

Go ahead and do what you want, just don’t lie to me about it. At that point, I knew the marriage was over and my trust in her was done.

I'm not certain if this preceded or followed her forgetting about my birthday, but it came - and went.

I awoke on that Saturday, and expected a gift of some sort.  Breakfast [nothing] lunch - afternoon - dinner - nothing.  At some point, I suspected that there was nothing coming.  I said nothing because, well - why should I?  Two days later, I got a box.  Inside was an Eagles t-shirt and a "happy birthday" card - never mind that it was two days late.  My proclamation: "So, you forgot my birthday, and picked out the first thing that you saw in the store when you walked in?"  Once again, I received no response.  The perfect thoughtless gift from the thoughtless person in my life.

Seeking love outside of my marriage would now become a priority. Vengeance is a horrible feeling to have, and an even worse wish to fulfill, but I would find it somehow.

The end was near.

Scenes From a Marriage - Part One.

It has been on my mind lately to write a bit about my married life, and how it became that way.  Much in the matter of a Tarantino film, I'll start from the middle and work my way in and out.

Part One - The Sex Thing.

OK, so I made some mistakes in my life -- I got married to a woman who turned out to be all about conforming to society and not the least bit interested in men, and my own instincts proved correct, but I ignored them in favor of the ... life.

All along, I suspected that she wasn't fully "into it," but I persevered and thought that, no ... I  must be wrong -- there isn't enough evidence.  It's the Zapruder Film of relationships.  I knew what happened, I just couldn't PROVE it.  Every photo from her college years that I saw had a beer in her hand, surrounded by other students.  Damning, but no proof.

Did she have to be "into it," or was your personal charm and commitment enough to sustain the relationship and prove to her that you were so committed to it that it didn't matter?  We thought so, but ... no --- as it turned out.

There were clues.  I suspected that, when she house-sat for a friend and we spent the early evening together yet still chased me home before midnight, that she wasn't interested.  At the time, I thought, "Oh well - she's just being a responsible house-sitter," whatever that was.  So, there I went - home - with testicles colored various shades of blue because --- well, I don't know exactly.

When we visited her old college roommate and her family in Tennessee, we weren't yet married.  The owners of the home forbid us from sleeping together, and I thought, "Their house - their rules."  That didn't stop me from lying awake in my King bed - alone - wondering what might be going on in the bed that she might be sharing with her friend.  At one point in the night, I crept toward the room and listened at the door.  I didn't hear anything, but still wondered if I was too late. It's an odd feeling, wondering if I was being too suspicious or not suspicious enough.

When we finally had sexual intercourse - further into the relationship than most others - I left panicked that I had somehow instigated the birthing ritual by not - well - pulling out soon enough.  As it turned out, she had been on birth control pills for well over a month.  Who was the only important person she did not tell?  Yeah - me. Might have been an important bit of info to pass along, before I had started planning fatherhood.

Once, while we were dating, we were at the Philadelphia Zoo, and she said, "I have a proposition for you," and proposed a weekend in Cooperstown, New York at a Bed and Breakfast.  She set up a Thanksgiving weekend.  Once we got there, she turned me away, saying "I hate to disrupt your little love-nest."  Whoa.  Didn't you propose this thing?  She made me feel like I was in the wrong for expecting something.  Needless to say, there wasn't a TV or enough alcohol at the B&B to make it worthwhile.

Perhaps it would have worked in my favor to include another woman in our sessions?  What could it have hurt?  Clearly, she wasn't interested in normal intercourse, even though she routinely told me that I was "gentle and polite."  We saw how far that got me.

We were married on October 13 - a hot Saturday in 1990 - you could look it up.  At the end of it all, we were exhausted, both from trying to appease our various relatives and get the fuck out of there.  We had no honeymoon planned, and I remember piling all of our "wedding booty" into her Volkswagen and running off home, collapsing into bed and waking on Sunday morning - married. And every moment thereafter I thought we would wind up divorced.  Perhaps it was pre-determined or perhaps it was ...

Once we were married, it was all scheduled.  Saturday mornings.  Sometimes on Sunday mornings, if the Saturday morning bit was interrupted by some schedule.  In the rare circumstance that the weekend wasn't enough, a Wednesday night might suffice - if we got to bed early enough.  Bed.  That's all. And, the routine was -- well -- routine.  This, followed by that, and this, and that -- all on some sort of schedule.  There was no oddity or interjection.

There was the extremely rare - rare - occasion that she got drunk or watched a provocative video (see above) where the schedule was pre-empted.  She used to refer to it as her "wifely duty."  That thrilled me to no end, since I used to make it a priority to clean-up and become as presentable as possible. As it turns out, it was all for naught.

It wasn't your normal man/woman relationship.  I remember coaxing her to stay up and watch the pay-per-view of Howard Stern's "Underpants and Negligee Party."  We had been married for a few months, and I was (and am) a big fan of Howard, and thought it might be interesting.  Yes, it was.  She sat and took it in.  Mostly, it was various women running around in stages of undress and Howard (being Howard) working them into states of sexual coercion.  All for about ten dollars.

After it was over, we had the best sex of our marriage.  I didn't put it all together until months later, when I realized that the "underpants and negligee's" were the driving force.  Hindsight.

By now, you are reading this thinking, "Dear God," but no. I am writing this to inform you that not every relationship is what you think it is, even if you are in it.  My problem was that I had nothing else, and it was the desperation that led to my acceptance.  I suspected that there were other issues (not that there's anything wrong with that) but chose to ignore them in exchange for the routine sexual experience that turned out to be  - well - routine.

Lesson:  Don't settle.  Yeah, but you knew that.

But, don't.