Angel of the Mourning

I frequently complain here about the state of my marriage.  Today I read this line: 

I have a divorced friend that has been divorced 3 years now, and mourns “being married”. 

As I mulled this over in my head, I realized that I, too, would probably mourn the death my marriage as much as the loss of Monkey Butt.  I love being married.  Even if I nitpick about the way/frequency that he shows his affection, I would miss his companionship.  I would miss being confident in my relationship status.  For all my disgruntled rambling, marriage is becoming a security blanket to me and I, too, would mourn the loss of that warmth.

I hated dating.  I disliked everything about dating.  Unlike some people who relish the unattached life and the independence that it requires, I dislike floating through the world alone.  I do not like meeting new people.  I do not enjoy having to frequently change partners and repeat the “getting to know you” dance.  I do not like having to decipher a new acquaintance. 

I most certainly love my husband.  I may not like him sometimes but I like knowing that he’s waiting for me at our home when I leave work at 5 o’clock.  I like a lover that I know well.  I like knowing his preferences and his habits.  It doesn’t make love boring.  It makes love familiar.  I love lying in bed wrapped in his arms.  I love that floating feeling when I think about him or how much I love him.  I like that he allows me to maintain my illusion of independence while at the same time we are dependent upon one another.  I like having inside jokes and pouring my secrets out to him.   I enjoy the intimacity of the emotional relationship as much as the physical. 

I used to believe intensely that love made you vulnerable.  I used to make plans to leave before I was left.  I used to have high high standards that few men could meet.  I used to have a checklist of steps to be completed before the relationship could progress to the next level. 

And then I met Monkey Butt.  Monkey Butt is nothing like anyone I’ve ever dated.  Monkey Butt who ground my checklist under his boot like a old cigarette.  I broke the rules.  He didn’t make me. 

Let’s Play Pretend

I wonder what our relationship would be like if we didn’t have to deal with all of his exes.  If they really were just faded memories left in the past where they belong, would our marriage be healthier?  How much of our conflict is based in his past drama? 

But then we wouldn’t have the Sassy Brat or Bubba… so maybe it balances out. 

Isn’t like I can change it now…

I Want It My Way

Why can’t he love me the way I want him too?   Who cares that my wants and needs change by the hour… he’s supposed to know that!  Yeah, right. 

I have always heard that you should lead by example.  So, I try to do the things that I would sometimes want in hopes that he’d take the hint. But, no, apparently my expectations are too great for a mere man.   Maybe I should have tried lesbians instead of marriage. 

Case in point: I had what the doctor called a minor surgical procedure Wednesday.  To someone who’s never even had the chicken pox and most serious medical procedure to date was the extraction of her wisdom teeth, burning off flesh was MAJOR!  I was kinda hurt that Monkey Butt didn’t even ask how I was feeling Wednesday night.  In turn, he claimed to be hurt that I didn’t tell him that my mother was taking me.  (I did tell him at dinner Tuesday night but obviously selective hearing was activated.)  When I sent the text saying “On my way home” he thought it meant I was leaving work to get ready for the appointment and left work.  I was on my way home from the hospital when I sent that.  My mother stayed with me for a while because he was on the phone when we got home.  I told her that he didn’t take off to be with me but to spend some quality time with his boat.  Sure enough, he stayed on the phone with the mechanic working on the boat the entire time my mother was there.  When he finally got off the phone, mom asked him if he was going to stay home or if he had plans.  He assured her that he’d be home with me; and, no sooner than her tail lights disappeared around the corner, he jumped in my truck and left with the boat.

Yesterday, I left work at noon because I was cramping severely and light-headed.  Apparently someone at the doctor’s office forgot to tell me that you’re supposed to be on bedrest for 24 hours after that “minor procedure.” Monkey butt left work at the same time.  Once again, he came home and loved on the dog before checking on his wife and promptly called the mechanic about the boat.

Sure, last night he was brought me a sprite and crackers but he was a total smartass about it.  Not to mention, it took him over an hour to run 2 blocks to Kroger and buy a Sprite and a box of crackers.  But I want more.

I’m so pathetic!  I married a man because the sex was great and expected him to be affectionate.

Follow Me!

You Spin Me Right ‘Round, Baby

Not A Salesman

I hate writing resumes.   Wait, let me clarify.  I hate writing resumes for me.  I am usually pretty good at writing resumes for other people.  I just don’t know how to “sell myself.”   Maybe it’s a self-esteem thing but, while I know that I have marketable skills, I don’t know how to market them. 

It doesn’t help that I am currently job-hunting in a field in which I have never held a professional position.  Yes, I have interned in classrooms for several years but I never had a paying classroom job.  I did private tutoring for a couple of years but that still doesn’t add up to much. 

On top of that, I’ve been out of the game for so long that I don’t know the current buzz words.  When I was at BMJ, parental involvement and abstract learning were all the rage.  What is the new “fad” in education?  Based on recent newspaper articles, in my area, it would be “State Takeover.”