When I was about 12 years old, maybe a couple of years younger, I fell out of love with my mother. I had just written this story, my first one, and I proudly thrust it under her nose waiting for praises and approval. Her exact words- and what does it say of this event that I actually remember her exact words to me?- "This is what you want to write about? Monsters and devils and death?"
No, "Wow, great command of the English language," or "Keep up the good work," just =BAM
Right then and there I knew it was over between us.
When I first met my ex-husband, I was a sheltered kid finally let out of her family's homemade prison and proceeded to behave in a manner in which I knew they would never approve: drinking, smoking, pre-marital sex, and many other illegal things I will not cop to right this minute. One thing led to another and the rabbit died...fast forward to 1999: we got married. The ceremony, if you can call it that, was a simple one at City Hall, done quickly so that he could obtain and keep a position at a Jesuit college. I played my role and he played his, and we even liked each other enough to have a second baby.
Fast forward to 2005: I agree to move to NJ to work at a boarding school with him; he's tired of the Jesuit college and wants something else, something better and thinks the boarding school will be it. I resented being asked to leave NYC for the NJ countryside but again, tow the line, play my role.
A few months into the gig, in which, by the way, he is my BOSS, I get a visit from the head of school...let's call her David Koresh. So Koresh comes to talk to me about my "job" in this creepy tone and finally I get why she's really there: my ex COMPLAINED to her about having to supervise me. Actually told her I was UNDERMINDING HIS AUTHORITY at the dorm parent meetings, and just plain being difficult.
She sent us to a "counselor," the type that are supposed to help resolve work-place drama, except that this was no ordinary work-place drama. This drama had made its way into my bedroom. I was SUPER STANK about the whole deal. I hate doctors; with every inch of my being I DESPISE them. And shrinks are the WORST!! And he got us sent to one.
Needless to say, I was uncooperative during the entire meeting. At one point the counselor looked me in the eye and said, "Do you realize you're coming off as cold and uncaring right now?" Right to my face like I wasn't from NYC and wouldn't get one of my deadbeat cousins to pop a cap in her ass. Some fucking nerve! I looked over at my ex and he just looked down at the floor. Said nothing to defend me or us.
That's when I knew it was over. That is the exact moment I knew I could never love this man because, frankly, for all his good intentions, he did not love me enough to tell this doctor to go fuck herself. He just tucked in his dick and let her shit all over me like I was the wicked witch of the west or something. It was just like he criticized my very first and oh-so-important story. Him joining my mom in the opposite corner from me.
That's when he lost all my respect.
I remember thinking back to the moment I told him I was pregnant, and how he so gallantly said he would take care of us, and how I wished he had been an ass and ditched me instead. Then I wouldn't have had to sit there and let that trick ass bitch call me names.
But, perspective folks. If none of this had ever happened to me, I wouldn't be the proud owner of this t-shirt:
It's the little things that bring me joy. Always the little things.
*smooches...the warm and caring kind*
i know men are delicate
who need women to unfold them
hold them when they cry
but i am tired of being your savior
and i am tired of telling you why