W was wrong for me from day one, but I just didn’t see it at the
time. I met him when I was a temp at an
office in my hometown, and he made little impression on me when we were
introduced. A few weeks later he hired
me to do some personal paperwork for him, which led to our first date just days
later. A few weeks after that, we were
living together. It was a terrible
decision, I really barely knew him at all outside a few dates that somehow
always ended up at a hotel. I was living
with my parents, he was living with his parents an hour away. I can vaguely remember the discussion about
us moving in with each other, it was not romantic at all, except that we were
on the beach watching a sunset. He said
it would be cheaper and more convenient for him, if we just got an apartment together. Yes, doesn’t that just sweep a young girl off
her feet? Nonetheless, I fell for
it. (His marriage proposal was the two
of us leaving the mall with my engagement ring- which my parents loaned him the
money for and he never paid them back- and he threw the box at me and said here
you go.)
Because he lived two counties away and commuted to my hometown for
the job, I was the one who got the apartment, and on the day I moved in he was
nowhere to be found. My family and
friends moved me into my very first place.
W showed up two days later, with some clothes and books, and that was
it. He claimed he had been sick in bed
with a toothache and that’s why he wasn’t there on moving day. Strange that he never bothered to call to let me know. Of course later on, I found out he had been
a few hundred miles away partying with college friends and was drunk as hell,
sleeping it off. This should have been
the light bulb moment for me right away, but I ignored the signs.
My parents were very disappointed and unhappy that I was going to
be living with a guy I had just met. My
mom and sister hated him from day one and never changed their opinion during
all the years we were married, my father wanted to give him a chance to prove
he was a good man for his daughter. But,
I was in my twenties, out of college, working full time for the government at
this point. My younger sister had
shacked up before me, but by then she was married to the man and still is to
this day. I was supposed to be the
sensible oldest child and not do stupid or crazy things, and I think it hurt my
father more than he let on. Lesson
learned, father does know best.
W and I did get married not long afterwards, but I am shocked we
even made it through the first year of our relationship. I suffered traumas that I won’t even post
here anonymously, because of him. No one
but J knows 100% of the awful story- too terrible and painful to even tell a
sister or best girlfriend. And I had to
grow up, quickly. I wasn’t sheltered or
naïve before I met W, but I had never known anyone like him before. A misogynistic, egomaniacal drug addict. I did know about his drug addiction even
before we moved in together, and it’s something I managed to hide from my
family and friends the entire 13 years I was with him. I did not know he was such a hateful, abusive
asshole though. No one knew about any of
this until I had filed for divorce, when I realized I didn’t care about
“protecting” him anymore. My family was
shocked when I announced we were splitting up, my girlfriends all said it was
about friggin’ time I kicked him out. My
mom said I never loved him, I was just looking for an excuse to get out from under
my parents’ roof, and quite frankly that was the truth.
It was so bad at the end, every day I prayed he would come
home to announce he had been having an affair and was leaving me for the other
woman, and I would shriek “Thank God!” I would finally be rid of him. But he was predictable in that when he wasn’t
at work he was sitting on the living room couch stoned and watching cartoons. The short time when we were dating, our
intimate life was good. Not long after
we married, sex became a once or twice a year ordeal, with me begging and him
so uninterested in anything but pot, that he couldn’t even “finish”. Makes me cringe to think about that now. The part where I actually begged that creep
for sex, not the part about him rolling over in the middle of it saying he was
too tired to keep going.
The best part of our relationship was when I decided to end it,
and told him to move out, and I was filing for divorce. We’d had those stupid fights where I would
scream at him to pack his shit and get out, and he would sit there and laugh at
me. But this time, it was for real. I joke today and tell people about my
“divorce diet”, and how it was the easiest way to get rid of 185 pounds of ugly
unwanted fat. Everyone laughs. It was a rough time though, he took four
months to finally move out and that was after I got an attorney to show him how
serious I was. Then he tried to blackmail
me for alimony, seriously (that is a long story). My dad offered him a lump sum of money to
just leave me alone, but he was greedy and refused. The state we lived in required us to be
separated for an entire year before we could even file for divorce. I asked him for a divorce in December 2003,
and it did not happen until May 2005. Sadly we had to have constant contact with each other throughout the separation- the only legal rule for separation was that we were not allowed to spend a night together under the same roof (even if it was spent not speaking and sitting in different rooms)- the "year" would start all over again if that happened. Such antiquated bullshit, I can't even believe it was the 21st century.
There is a lot more to tell, like the stalking episodes, stealing my diary, the insanely disgusting and perverted letters he sent me while we were separated. I know if you read my last post, you are doing the math. I was with W for 13 years, but I’ve been with
J for 10, yet I only met W 20 years ago.
Math doesn’t add up, does it?
And that story is for another day…my happy chapters.
MISS GEE
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