Wednesday, August 8, 2007

Smelling Roses Again

XBrood Live: Smelling Roses Again

Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Smelling Roses Again

I know I’m melodramatic. I host a blog for god sakes! I’ve been doing this, or at least a version of “this’ for the past 3 years, and written about myself and my life pretty much the entirety of my existence. I love doing it and I always will. What I love about doing it on the Internet is the ability to share some of my deepest and most intimate thoughts and have them ripped apart by people who don’t know me and will probably never meet me. It allows a certain kind of insight into yourself that you can’t get any other way.

That being said let me tell you what an ass I am. Yesterday I thought I was married to another man. Because of my inability to listen to what he was actually was trying to tell me everything he said was taken so out of context that suddenly in my mind he became a monster to me. I felt he was completely inhuman and utterly devoid of any semblance of humanity (wait…doesn’t that mean inhuman?) or high functioning intelligence. Can you believe the horrible shock I felt when I heard my husband say, “The only reason anyone says nice things about your post is because you have tits.” At some point I have to get used to him saying idiotic things without thinking and not turning him into the monster I felt he was.

To be honest I barely gave him a minute to explain what he truly meant to say. No matter how he tried to explain it to me all I heard was, “There there, your just a girl after all. You can’t possibly expect anyone to actually admire you for your intelligence can you?” I knew in my heart of hearts that he didn’t mean it the way it came out… My husband isn’t the most eloquent of men and good god when he puts his foot in his mouth he’s nose deep in ass!

I spoke to Viol8rsGirl, my best Live pal, and she suggested I not speak to him. She even explained to me how I should give him the silent treatment. Go home, go about my business and say nothing. I couldn’t do it of course. No, not me. Haven’t I been called wordy before? No, shortly after I spoke to her I called him back and explained exactly why I was upset. I didn’t want him to say anything or hear any retort from him. I needed him to soak in what I said and how I felt then take it all in for some deep introspection into the man he really is. Well, I said what I had to say and before I was able to say good-bye he tried to tell me that he didn’t say what I said he did. That he tried to explain that to me but I “got all butt-hurt about it”. The words “Oh my god.” Spat out of my mouth as I slammed down the receiver.

I didn’t even hear that he said he didn’t mean it to come out the way I took it. He didn’t say it, but he did. I couldn’t hear it. I was mortified. I married a stranger. I wrote my passage and wrote and wrote until the choking feeling in my throat went away. Until I was able to stand up without feeling queasy, which mind you NEVER happens to me. I’m a comfort eater though I do resist, but queasy? My stomach doesn’t do queasy. I went home and tried to think of something else, but couldn’t. I cried all the way out of the parking lot while I contemplated how I would end my relationship. I cried all the way to the freeway entrance while I tried to figure out how much time I truly should give this. Only enough time to get an annulment or a years worth of time. Just one more year of trying to learn and grow with each other only to find it to be an impossible task of enormous proportions.

It’s better not to have children with someone your not going to spend the rest of your life with right?. If it’s this difficult this early on it’s just not worth it. So I spent the rest of the trip home knowing that I would probably never have children. There’s just not enough time. I can’t meet that perfect someone in the short amount of time I have left. I can’t risk having defective children because I’m over 35. Mentally I can’t get over that and If I married this man and I STILL have no idea who he is then I can make this error in judgment again and that would be unbearable. I spoke to my ex-husband all the way home. I hate calling him for things like that, but I needed to speak to someone who knows me more than I know myself and he’s the only one that does. He understood me and tried his best to calm me, get me to be more understanding and tell me that I probably just didn’t understand what he was trying to tell me in the first place. I should know better he said, It’s Rigid after all. We all know that Rigid says things and doesn’t mean them the way they sound. Again, I couldn’t hear it. I was distraught.

I finally made it home and for the most part Pumpo kept me fairly calm. My eyes felt puffy and my face was sticky with the half dried tears that had been pouring down my face. As I walked in I tried to think of all the things I would say to him and tried to remain calm. He was sitting by the chase looking out the window waiting for me to come home. I smelled bleach the instant I opened the door. A quick look around told me the house was virtually spotless and I could smell dinner cooking. Those were all good signs, but not enough. I steeled myself against the unavoidable argument I knew was coming. So when he stood up and took me into his arms I began to shake and sob with a sorrow that I could not describe. At that moment he was more than just a Jack-Ass. He was Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde, Frankenstein, The blob and those horrible fuzzy gerbil like creatures from Star Trek all rolled into one.

But he kissed every tear, held me tight and began to tell me how sorry he was. That he never meant to hurt me. That he thinks I’m the most beautiful and most intelligent person in the world. How could I not know that he asked. He wondered how I could possibly have imagined that he could be a male chauvinist. That the only chauvinistic idea he has in his head is that I should stay home to raise our kids when we have them and even then he wouldn’t have a problem staying home himself if he had to. I continued to sob on those choked and angry feelings until I heard everything he was saying and realized I do know who I married. He continued to apologize and tell me how stupid he was for not explaining himself properly. As I shook my head I tried to tell him he wasn’t stupid but all that came out was this funny little noise from my throat. God I felt so relieved. I didn’t even have to fight for it this time. I knew I knew my husband. I knew I knew him.

He farted that night. It smelled like roses again.

Posted by Maharet at 11:59 AM

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