It's late but since I have a horrible case of insomnia going on for several months now, does it matter? It's not like I don't have anything on my mind. No full time job, no insurance, need to have my back rent caught up by the end of this month (guess I'll be selling the couch and the antique case that I love), a car that I pray each morning will start. Why is it that they put these programs in place like the "cash for clunkers" when I can't take advantage of it!?
And I know that when I go to bed I'm just going to fall asleep and have to get up at the crack of dawn to drive 23 miles to a temporary job that I...well, hate is a strong word...dislike intensely, and pays $16 per hour. A job where I am using none of my skills or experience but instead am filing, scanning and entering credit card information into database. It's no wonder that I'm in my car with the motor running at 5:01 each day ready to peel out of the parking lot. Other employees are huddled in the doorway just waiting for me to leave so they will live another day to see their children. But hey...that's all that is out there right now and by God...THEY LIKE ME! Oh yes, I'm the best darned filer/scanner/copier/database entry temporary employee they've ever had. They want to keep me - oh goodie...they really like me! Yup, my dream job right before my eyes. One day I even got to alphabetize 1000 pieces of documentation before filing - I felt special that they gave that project to me.
And by the way...I finished my degree late and I had better jobs and higher salaries before I got the degree! I'm thinking I should have left well enough alone. I am like garlic to a vampire when it comes to an interviewer and a good job. Hisssss...sign of the cross, back off you evil thing! Maybe I should have another look at my teeth - my front canines are a tad pointed. Veneers might be a good investment - oh yeah, I have no money. Hmmm...maybe it's not insomnia...
And, I'm sure some of this insomnia is hormonally driven - the bane of women...hormones. They rage uncontrollably and cause acne when you plunge into puberty. They drive you (and your spouse/partner) insane when you are pregnant. I saw my sister yell so loud at her husband one time, and about the stupidest thing when she was eight months pregnant that he actually cowered in the corner of the couch. She's tiny (well she wasn't then) and he's a big man. I left the house - I didn't want to see her head spin. These hormones then drive you into depression after your baby is born and you cry and wonder why you had this noisy, stinky thing. At least that doesn't last long. You then lose your mind when you approach peri-menopause. And then...you're hot and cold and achy and depressed and forgetful and have acne again and you're mad at the world ("and everything in it" as a friend once said) and your skin is so dry it cracks and you drive yourself and everyone around you insane and you're depressed. Yes, ALL of the symptoms come together in one mind-blowing event called menopause.
I was LUCKY enough to go into peri-menopause (the new "it" term for those who don't want to quite yet confront menopause) at best guess in my late 20's, and entered menopause in my late 30's and early 40's. There are a lot of medical reasons for this, and for my inability to have children, but I prefer to refer to it in two different ways - God's punishment for marrying a demon and God's blessing upon me for the inability to carry the demon's spawn to term. I would, of course, be referring to my ex-husband. The one I waited for...the one I passed up better men for...the one that if my late father had met would have been only a memory. Ahhh...one can wish and dream.
This "man" decided to take up golf as a past time while we were engaged. He was even lucky enough to play a round with the pro golfer/PGA Champion/2008 Captain of the Ryder's Cup team, Paul Azinger. My dad played golf. My brother plays golf and one of his sons plays so well he can beat my brother. But one thing I learned from all of them is that you have to practice to get better and you have to have patience. You can still enjoy playing even if you never break 100 but you have to like it for what it is - a game of skill that only a few ever master and one that can be frustrating but oh so fun and rewarding. You have to take bad shots with a grain of salt. You have to follow protocol on the course and, if you do get mad at one of your shots, just have another drink and move on.
Well my ex thought he could take it up and break 100 in a month. This is a man who cannot spell or even pronounce the word, "patience." He spent hundreds of dollars on his FIRST set of clubs. When he didn't break 100 on his timetable, he sold the clubs. A few months later, he spent a few hundred dollars more on a second set of clubs - convinced by a friend to give it another try. That friend should have talked to me first. The last time he played he came home and announced he was finished with golf and would never play again. He was without his clubs in a foul mood. I asked him where his clubs were and he said that since he didn't play well he ran over them with his car. I asked him, as most reasonable people would, why he would do such a thing. He said that if he couldn't play well with them then he didn't want to let anyone else play well with them. In fact, he stopped at a convenience store for a "slushie" and when he went back to his car he noticed that a putter had fallen out of the bag into the back seat. He took the putter out, went over to the metal trashcan and proceeded to beat the club against the metal trashcan until it was irreparably bent out of shape, all the while slurping up his slushie. He then dumped the club in the can. He couldn't even leave one club unharmed. He kept the slushie - he wasn't finished with it and it a cost him a dollar.
Mind you...we were not yet married - I had time! He told me this story and I sat there stunned, mouth hanging open, speechless. I had never been exposed to anything like that in my life - never known anyone to do such a thing and for such a stupid reason. AND I STILL MARRIED THE GUY! And I can't say I was young and stupid - I was 34 at the time. I was just stupid. When I tell this story now I can barely get it out without choking with laughter. I mean, c'mon...it sounds like I made it up! He didn't want anyone else to have the chance to play well with those clubs if he couldn't - BAD CLUBS!
Before we were married we took at trip to Corpus Christi for a combination of business/short vacation. Our hotel was not the Ritz but it was decent and clean. It wasn't on the water but we weren't far from the water. But Good Lord, you would have thought they put us in a homeless shelter. He was mad the entire time we were there, which made for lovely nights out and romantic dinners. AND I STILL MARRIED THE GUY! A side note: this trend followed us throughout our marriage on almost all vacations we took - including one to Paris. But those are tales for another time because they definitely merit their own stories. Just remember these places...Santa Clara, Paris, St. Croix.
But...I STILL MARRIED THE MAN! I never admitted this to anyone but there were two or three times that I felt that something was wrong. There was just a very strange feeling in the pit of my stomach and during those times I wasn't attracted to him at all. But those feelings didn't last and since I had never been married, I chalked it up to pre-marriage jitters. I mean he said he loved me; he bought me the most beautiful ring you've ever seen; he helped pay for most of the wedding; he put up with me during the planning (of course he lived in another city four hours away so he wasn't with me every day for this); and I believed he was finally the man I could really, really trust. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I laugh now but I was so far off base on that one single trait that I was in another ballpark in another city.
As I'm getting ready for bed those things popped into my head and I thought I would get them out, get them down and give a little tease for more to come. I guess I should write a proper introduction so you'll know a little bit about me. It's too late for that tonight - just keep in mind I came from a middle to upper-middle class family; was taught wonderful values and work ethics by my mother and father; grew up in a home where putting your fist through a wall in anger wasn't an option (actually never knew people did that); was the first of three children so my parents were stricter on me than my younger sister and brother (like most parents are); had a great education; was/am intelligent - in essence all of the the things that you think would have prepared me to see that I was getting ready to marry a Class A jerk; the anger management poster child; a woman hating philanderer; and a man who would eventually break me and break my heart. But who knew...?
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