Friday, June 16, 2006

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Monday, June 12, 2006

Friday, June 09, 2006

Thursday, June 08, 2006

Since the comments on the last post have exploded, I thought I’d answer a couple of comments here (if blogger ever lets me post again, shitty, fucking, dick, ass blogger. I’m so getting my own domain. Does anyone want to translate this template into wordpress for me? I’ll pay.)

Anonymous wrote:

What he does is abuse. It is dangerous for you and you kids to be around him. Go with your instincts. If you feel it. It is real. You don’t owe anyone anything. Yikes, I just don’t like seeing or hearing or reading about people in abusive situations. It breaks my heart. People don’t change. He wants control. All men know women dream about their weeding their whole lives. You should have what you dream of!!!

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Hey Anonymous! We’re a friendly bunch around here. Feel free to leave your name next time.

Yes, I’m aware that I endured over 11 years of abuse from this man. The question on the table is, has he really changed? From outward appearance, and in recent dealings with me, it would seem so. He has also been told, flat out, that if I was to accept him back into my life, there is no way that I will put up with anything remotely similar to where we’ve been in the past. He assures me that is possible and would absolutely be the case.

That said, my fear is living under the same roof with him again, knowing our history. I believe it is why I am holding back so much in terms of moving forward with him. He wants me to forget the past and start fresh. I don’t know if that is possible.

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Haley-o wrote:

Wow, I didn't realize it was that bad. You're very brave to have left and even braver, it seems, to give him another chance for the sake of your kids.

I believe writing it out is a really good tool for you--because, if you really do want to move forward, you're going to have to release the past. Writing down the past externalizes it, right? ...unbottles everything and gets it out there. Writing down the past is a way of releasing it and distancing yourself from it--so you can see it for what it really was, deal with the residual pain, and let it go. I hope that helps...

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Truthfully, after writing this, I don’t know if I want to. But, it always comes back to the same thing, the boysies. It’s not like I woke up one day and said, “Wow, I’m still in love with B. I made a mistake. I should see if he wants to get back together. (That’s what he thought I would do 4+ years ago, though. Because, according to him, I was always wrong in the decisions I made four years ago.)

No. What this boils down to is I miss my boysies. In the past 4+ years, I have spent 2+ years with them, 2+ years alone. I want to see them everyday. If there is anyway I can work it out with this man and we can cohabitate peacefully, isn’t it better for them in the long run anyway? Having both parents living under the same roof?

Fuck if I know.

That’s what therapy is for.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

I met B the summer of 1991 in Fire Island. The girl that ran my share house went to high school with him and introduced us one night at Flynns. By the end of the summer, we were inseparable, and we moved in together six months after that.

From the get go, B was very different from anyone I had ever dated. He wasn’t a “player;” checking over my shoulder to see what better might be coming down the pike. He was extremely attentive, wanting only to make me happy. In retrospect, it was very validating for me to have him around.

He was the first person to EVER buy me separate birthday and Hanukah gifts (the curse you live with when you’re born on Christmas… here’s your combo gift!)

The first year we were together, he was so horrified that my parents didn’t get me a birthday cake, when we got back into the city that night, he scoured Manhattan until he found me a piece of cake. No small feat on Christmas Day at 8pm. Then he made me blow out the candles.

Somewhere along the way, our relationship became one of angry words, screaming, yelling, and more. I lost my trust in him and our marriage. This didn’t happen overnight and it was present from the beginning. I glossed over it because I didn’t want it to be real. I buried it deep within my psyche.

Now, I have been instructed to unearth these things, write them down, so that I can possibly move forward, and perhaps learn to trust him again.

So, some assorted memories, not of the good variety…

We were in a car service, returning from a visit with my parents. This was at the beginning of our engagement and we were still trying to decide where the wedding was going to be. I brought up the idea of getting married in a castle, because it was something that I had always dreamed about. “Absolutely NOT!” was his immediate response. I tried to get him to listen to my point of view, but there was no changing his mind. The more I argued, the angrier he became. That was his word on the subject, now the subject was closed. By the time we got back into the city, I was in tears, and couldn’t stand the thought of being around him. I left and sat in a movie theatre, crying, for two hours. It was the realization while I was there, that I didn’t have anywhere else to go, that made me go home. When I got there, I told him fine, I’d continue to look at temples. We ended up getting married in the same kosher catering hall where he had his Bar Mitzvah party and his sister got married.

We went to Hawaii on our honeymoon, stopping first in San Francisco for 2 days. On the flight from California to Hawaii, the bottle of water I put inside the carry on bag, opened and soaked everything. B had warned me when he saw me do it, that I shouldn’t put the water in the bag because of that very reason. When he saw what had happened, he exploded. The woman sitting next to us on the flight was very concerned for my safety, and leaned over to ask me if I was okay. B then turned his wrath on her. She immediately asked to have her seat moved, rather than sit next to B. Somehow, this was my fault as well, so he screamed some more. I went for a walk by myself upon arriving at our hotel. Then I went back and apologized for putting the water bottle into the carry on.

The day I realized that I was pregnant with Little Dude we had one of our worst fights ever. Big Guy was a little over a year old, and sitting in his high chair at the time. I don’t remember what the subject matter was, but I know in this scenario, once again, according to him, I was wrong. The fight escalated, B took me and shoved me out the back door of our house. He then proceeded to lock me out. I was incredibly pissed off and decided to try and climb in thru the kitchen window. I had gotten the screen off and was starting in when he brought the window down on top of my head. In front of my son. That walk was two hours worth of me crying, wondering what am I going to do. In the end, I was pregnant. There was nothing to do but go home.

I was nursing Little Dude at the kitchen table one evening. B got very upset with me regarding a decision I had made without consulting him first. He started in with the berating of Stephanie. I decided I was not going to engage, I was nursing my son. I got up, baby in my arms, still nursing, and walked past him so that I could continue feeding my son in peace. He chased me down the hall without missing a beat, his screaming voice echoing off the walls. He didn’t stop even after I got inside Little Dude’s room and closed the door. Where I remained, crying and nursing at the same time.

Fun times.

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Question.

This is supposed to be helping me… how?

Bueller?

(Fucking blogger! I wrote this on Word at 2:30 this afternoon, and the blogger database has been down until NOW. I know this is a free service and shit, but after I write something, I usually want to POST it.)

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

The Muppet Personality Test

You Are Kermit

Hi, ho! Lovable and friendly, you get along well with everyone you know. You're a big thinker, and sometimes you over think life's problems. Don't worry - everyone know's it's not easy being green. Just remember, time's fun when you're having flies!

You know you're vain when

Monday, June 05, 2006

My mom just told me that my dad has to go in for a biopsy for his prostate. She’s freaking out, and now, so’m I.

She told me this after I called to tell her that, because I can’t find coverage for the boysies, instead of going to Camden, Maine with them in July, I am going to have to move my vacation week to the week of June 19^th. That means no real vacation AGAIN for me this year, and that SUCKS.

Normally I could count on B for the extra coverage that we need for all the school closings and shit, but B got a new job. He has to be on the road everyday, and he no longer has an office he can bring them to. Besides the fact, that if he doesn’t go out on the road, he won’t make money.

Speaking of which, he still hasn’t reimbursed me for the boys’ expenses I laid out money for in May. He keeps telling me to be patient, but my patience is starting to wear thin. So's my bank account.

Sunday, June 04, 2006

The verdict is in.

GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH.GAH. GAH. GAH. GAH!

Just kidding!

(Don’t you hate when people do that? I know I do.)

To sum up, the evening was not terrible, not great.

Meh is the perfect word to describe it (if there was such a word, but we’ll pretend there is.)

Moving onto the details.

This morning, I gave B a call to discuss the plans for the evening that were in my head (wow, I finally realized that he’s not a mind reader and I need to TELL him things so that he KNOWS what I’m thinking, but I digress.)

My thought was that we would meet for sushi, and after dinner, head over to the dive bar that has AWESOME live blues. He agreed (without a peep from him about me driving myself… + 10 points) and we decided on eight o’clock as our meeting time.

The weather, on the other hand, had other plans for us.

The restaurant and dive bar are located on the Trashtasket strip, on the Atlantic. However, they are not next door to each other. The rain, which had been coming down in buckets for hours, would make the five minute hop, skip and a jump from dinner, to music, a second (wait, third) shower of the day.

At six o’clock, I called B back and asked, based on the impending floods, if he had an alternate plan. We decided we would head in the opposite direction to a place that had food and music all under one roof.

Problem solved. At least that problem.

I got to the pub just before eight and sat in the chair in the lobby waiting for B to get there. And waited. And waited. And waited. Ten minutes past, and still waiting, (-10 points for lateness) I reached into my bag to grab my cell, and realized I left it in the car.

Shit, motherfucker.

I have to go back outside, walk around to the back parking lot where my car is to fetch it. I’m getting wet again, and not in a good way. (-1 bazillion points, just ‘cause.)

(Yeah, I know… I was the one who left my cell in my car, why is he getting points docked? Hello! If he wasn’t late, I wouldn’t have to go fetch my cell, in the car, in the rain.)

I recovered my cell and saw that I missed a call from B at 8:04pm (+10 points for the timing, -5 of those points for no message.) I called him back; when he picked up, my question “Where are you?” was answered with “In the back. I came in the back door. Where are you?”

“In the front, waiting for you.” (Duh. –1 gazillion points for stupidity.)

He came and found me. After a couple of table changes (am I with L?) we finally sat, ordered drinks and looked at the menu.

Small talk about the kids and his job ensued. (I was pre-warned by L that the only thing husbands and wives really have to chat about are the kids and work, because it’s not like a real first date where you don’t know anything about each other, so no point deduction here.)

Twenty minutes in, he asked a question about my job. (+20 points for asking about me, -10 points for taking so fucking long.) (He’s still +10 in this category, k?!)

Our food came, and while I'm thinking about offering him the fries on my plate, he steals one. (-10 points for being forward.) (Yeah, I’m a hardass.)

We eat, chat, and I fidget.

I can’t get over my nervousness. It’s so obvious, B makes note of it. (-10 points for calling me out.)

The band finally started to play at 10pm.

The Joshua Tree. Can you figure out what kind of cover band they are?

(I have to take another aside to talk about the band. First of all, cover band? WTF? You wanna play, but you’re not original enough to come up with your own material? Don’t PLAY. Secondly…)

Dude! Pearl Jam's on Saturday Night Live. JAM BREAK!

Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, bitching about the band.

(Secondly, if you’re gonna cover a band and not have your own material, make it ROCK.)

The Joshua Tree so did not. They were lame. Lamer than lame. I’d heard so many good things about this band; they did not live up to the hype. The hype, I realized, has more to do with the fact that they’re an Irish cover band, and I live in the Irish coast of New England.)

Anyhoo, we left at 10:30, I was home by 11. We parted ways in the back parking lot with “I had fun.”

I came home and called The Player to come over and get naked.

But, I’m not unwilling to try again.

So there’s the plus.

Saturday, June 03, 2006

Friday, June 02, 2006

Big news!

Favorite movie quotes Friday V

Thursday, June 01, 2006