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He was born in Uganda. His parents were missionaries. I met him while I was waiting tables in a Midwestern college town. He wasn't my type. Blond, long-haired big guy--well-built. I preferred dark-haired, light eyed, shorter men. He didn't have a pretty face. Not that I was into pretty boys, but he wasn't, well, what I would consider attractive, physically.
I was short. At 5'3 1/2", I was the shortest in my family. Mom, Dad, 5 siblings and me. Dark-haired, bluish-green eyes, a fit farm-girl physique. We jump started our relationship one cold drunken night. I remember being in the back seat of the head bartender's car. The bartender "Brother Bart" (since he was one waitress's big brother, but he acted like he was all of the staff's big brother) was the owner/designated driver of the car. After offering to drive us home, he learned that I lived not in the actual 'city', but a near-by town, Reefton, from which I biked to work. Neither Schmark nor I owned a car. "Reefton? You want me to drive all the way to Reefton?" Schmark said, "You can crash at my place." "Okay." A bunch of us had been playing a friendly game of poker earlier and I, being a very amorous drunk with a friendly/flirty nature, and Schmark, being a man, well it wasn't difficult to predict what would happen next. "Are you sure?" Brother Bart asked several times. Making sure he asked me directly. With a resigned sigh, and his big old dark brown beater car warmed up, he pulled out of the parking lot and drove us to Schmark's place.
He lived upstairs in a loft/studio apartment of sorts. As I walked up the steps I noticed a big wooden pizza paddle hanging on the wall. I remember asking suggestively, "what will we be using this for?" A big futon on the floor was his bed. He had a sound system next to it. He played Suzanna Vega's album for me. At the time, she had but one album. His foreplay included the best oral sex I've ever received. Gentle, sweet and playful.
That was 23 years ago. Schmark's long gone. He died 16 years ago. But I remember him fondly on this Memorial Day weekend, because his memorial (he was cremated) was on Memorial Day weekend.
Yeah, so it is over. He declared by e-mail that I had too many issues for him to 'rescue' me. His evidence? My messy house. I informed Dude that my house is messy because I give my kids priority in my life. And that not only do I not need rescuing, I am stronger than he is, and also I would not accept his 'rescuing' of me. How very white of him. How very male of him. So now I realize that just like my ex, Dude is controlling. I just failed to pick up on it through e-mail, facebook messaging and over the phone. Hiding such a thing in person, however, is a bit more challenging.
The way he almost instantly bonded with my kids, and there I am feeling like Muriel Prichett in the Accidental Tourist where she is telling William Hurt's character not to get too close to her son, not to make him promises he can't keep. I feel the same way about Dude. Don't get close to my darling children. Leave them alone. Don't give them hope, don't strive to be a 'good role model', as you said you could be for them if you lived closer. This is another thing that I DID NOT ask you for. Yet another thing that you offer up to me on a silver platter as if it were a gift. Your free advice (controlling) your instant bonding with my boys (controlling), your judgment of me and my life due to my disorderly house (controlling). I am beginning to sincerely believe that men are nothing but controlling. I am done with my transition guy. What comes next? I take a couple of years off because by GOD if I wasn't gun-shy before. Crap. And he has this 'dirty little secret' that an ex of his blabbed. Of course I could VERY easily find out what it is, but do you know what? I don't care. Just as I no longer care for him. I feel nothing but relief that he is out of my life. i feel good that I can now concentrate on my life, my kids, without the distraction of making time to interact with this loser. It is so funny how easily he was able to pull the wool over my eyes. Me, the survivor, me, who believes that in love there is a learning curve and that I am on top of that learning curve. Apparently not. He put up a good front, telling me everything I wanted to hear. He was good. He was practiced, but then again, most of them are. Most of them have that 'charm' survival mechanism. They will say anything to relate to you, to worm their ways into your life, your heart. Then, and only then will they show their true colors. Then you are fucked. Pardon my language, but I think that is the only effective way of saying it. So yes, I dodged a bullet, and yes, I am grateful, but there is the little part inside me that glommed onto that hope. That little part is greatly disappointed. I will survive, I always do. And even though he lied to me and my perception of men is as bad if not worse than it was when I got to know him, I still hold on to one small glimmer of hope. I am not sure why.
So, my head is in a fog today. It has been too long since I have written. I need to write and exercise in order to keep myself sane. I am exercising pretty regularly, this is good. Okay. Where to start? Today, my focus will be a 'relationship' of sorts that has been on-going for a few months. Until yesterday I had not met the person, our dealings with each other were purely by phone, social networking, & Scrabble-playing. I don't even have a good pseudonym, so he will be Dude. We have been messaging extensively in the last 4 months or so, getting to know each other through telephone and written word. I was planning on meeting him in his town the day before my birthday. This is about a month away. I was getting cold feet. I pushed back the visit by one day. Almost as soon as I did that I get a call from Dude saying that he and his friend are planning on road tripping to my town for the day to attend the political rally that is on-going to fight the Governor's proposed budget cut which includes depriving some state workers from collective bargaining. He calls stating that he wants to come and asks, "Is that okay?" (NO! NO!NONONONONONONO!) "Sure." I resently had my water heater replaced, my kitchen is the filthiest it has ever been. Then I had the flu. It lasted 2 days, I just recovered. With the kitchen being a mess, I haven't had time to clean the rest of the house. My WHOLE house is a disaster area, and he gives me 24 hour notice. Damn!
Also, after Puddles was born, I was in physical therapy and being treated by a chiropractor for 18 months. I still haven't lost my baby weight, and I really want to. I just started working out on a full time basis. And, lastly, I don't like when my plans get trumped. I was just getting used to the idea that I had only a month to prepare. A month shrinks to less than 24 hours. Crap.
I like that we've resolved at least 3 disagreements, we've learned a lot about each other's upbringing and past. We had a period where he rejected me because his therapist said that he wasn't ready. We've exchanged more info in a few short months than I have with others during an entire relationship. And yet, I don't know. He has a lot of issues and something that he is not yet ready to share with me. I have a lot of issues. We ARE both working on our issues, so that says something. He is more like me than anyone I've ever dated. And yet, today, I am left wondering if we will get to the stage where we ARE dating.
He is great with kids. He was great with my kids, holding the younger, hugging the older and I am thinking, "Dude, don't write checks with your actions that your heart can't cash. Don't give my babies hope." They so crave adult male attention. And before you know it, Brick is saying, "Mom, I like spending time with him". And Puddles is stating, "I like Dude, he is very nice to me." Puddles is 3 now, when he says 'very nice' it sounds like 'fairy nice' which is super cute.We go to the rally and after that to a busy, child-oriented restaurant. I can't get a read on my own feelings toward him, let alone his feeling toward me. I was so sure about 'us' before I met him. He kept warning me about making him the perfect person. So now I am hesitant. The kids are involved. I am still a bit shell-shocked from my relationship with Jaybe. I thought he would make a good dad. I had the wool pulled over my eyes. Is Dude indeed like me? Is he a good guy? I think so, I hope so. Is he even interested after seeing my messy house, my chubby body? How do I feel about him? The commitment-phobe in me is scared. I truly believe that Clem had a hand in bringing Dude into my life due to the fact that it was my Catholicism that opened the door of communication between us. Dude was intrigued that I was raised Irish Catholic. After Clem's funeral, his widow told all Clem's siblings how much he wanted us to go back to the church. Was this lapsed Catholic boy going to lead me back to the church of my youth? I don't know.
There were moments, for me, at least, where I felt some attraction, some level of comfortableness. But my lack of sleep and complete nervousness clouded my mind, leaving me in a fog of panic for most of the encounter. I think the upshot of the premature (in my mind) meeting is that I am more certain now more than ever, that if we do become anything more than friends, we have to take it slow, not only for our kids' sakes (He has a boy that is slightly older than Brick) but also for our own sakes. A part of me is very invested in our friendship, and wants to stay there. But there is another part of me that asks myself questions from a Fleetwood Mac song, "Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?"
I don't know...I really, really don't know. I hope to find out, though. Damn.
The main reason that I postponed asking for child support was that I wanted to take the kids on one last long train ride for the last time before I would have to deal with his controlling b.s. We first traveled by car in early July to my parents' house in order to celebrate my dad's birthday. But we actually boarded a train the third of July and traveled by train to Washington, D.C. and were then picked up by my friend Mimi in Baltimore. We had a roomette on the train and a great trip. Sleeping on the train was fun. We stayed with her and her two boys, Atticus and Danny. They are 13 and 7, respectively. They live in a lovely neighborhood in a nice older house. Mimi had gone through much the same as I, except that her ex was adulterous, not abusive. She was welcoming. We were staying for 2 weeks at their house.
We arrived on the 4th of July, the boys were at their father's. The day was laid back and relaxing. The boys were able to watch fireworks from their upstairs window. It was one of the most wonderful, laid-back time with my dear, sweet, generous friend from college. Her 2 boys, my two boys and a lovely time in Baltimore.
Thinking over the last 10 plus years that I had been emotionally abused by Jaybe brings to mind the two methods of cooking a lobster. Bear with me. The two schools of thought differ in which is the more humane way. The first is that you bring a big pot of water to a rolling boil and drop the lobster into it. Some say that you can hear the lobster 'scream', but others insist this is just the sound of the body expanding inside the shell in the heat of the water. The other method is the one with which I identify after enduring the journey of a now defunct dysfunctional partnership. It goes as follows: one places the lobster in a big pot of tepid water and slowly turns up the heat until the lobster is dead and cooked. 'They' say that the lobster never even notices. How do 'they' know? Certainly, somewhere in their little crustacean brains they have to notice that they are dying, don't they? And if they have a little lobster friend in the pot with them, don't you think they would be turning to their buddy and saying, "Is it hot in here or is it just me?" and the pal would reply, "Now that you mention it, it DOES seem like was a lot cooler when we first got in."
I cannot pinpoint when the abuse started. I think that things changed once we moved in together and then again, shortly thereafter, when we had our wedding. The property damage didn't start until Brick was 6-8 months old, and it seemed, at the time, to be a one time incident related to his frustration of trying to help Brick go to sleep for the first time without me in the house. Reflecting back on that instance, I distinctly remember telling him to wait until I returned, and I would nurse Brick to sleep. I also remember his anger and competitiveness with Brick for my attention, and his
insane jealousy of my ability to calm Brick by simply putting him to my breast. He admitted that he wished that he, too, could lactate. At the time I thought it a sign of his wanting to be nurturing. Now I realize it was more of a sign of wanting to be the one in control, the one with the power.
I will write Custody !! (the sequel) sooner or later, but for now, I am tired.
Since Jaybe and I were never legally married, it would be necessary for us to go before a judge and declare paternity in order for him to have ANY custodial rights. I know this. He does not. This would have to be done in order for me to receive child support, as well. Since he cut me off financially when he left the house (he stopped putting money into the joint account in order that I could pay the bills, buy necessities like cat food as well as food for the kids (we are now on food stamps), etc) my thinking WAS that I would have to file for child support. I dreaded this b/c Jaybe is EXTREMELY irresponsible when it comes to finances. So much so, that my credit rating was over 780 when we entered into our union, therefore the house, for which his mom gave us a generous (two-thirds the cost of the house) down payment. Then, for two or three years, Jaybe had his heart set on being a licensed massage therapist. So instead of taking small steps (going into a partnership, working at a small, established office) he, with the encouragement of his mother, started renting his own office, which at one-half the cost of our monthly mortgage.
I was working full-time at a job with benefits. When I finally became pregnant, after five years of failed attempts, I also lost my job. At this point, I received unemployment during the first 2 trimesters of the pregnancy and worked part-time during the third. Jaybe continued to follow his dream of using his LMT license by being in business for himself. Sure, he worked for a caterer part-time, and taught part-time at a massage school (which he hated due to the "down time" --i.e. answering phones while his students worked on clients). He seems to have some ADHD symptoms. I find things to do with my "down time", as I am a very internal person. I used to write my college papers in my head before I committed them to page. All I needed was a detailed written outline (think lower case letters), and about 5 days of procrastination. I typed each and every one of them the day before they were due. Never a late paper, never a grade below 'B'. That is just how my brain works. He also spent time volunteering at a local radio station, and little time at home. He rarely had enough massage clients to pay for renting his office. After two years, and much pleading and negotiating from my end, he sublet the office. I offered to act as receptionist (since he was CONSTANTLY double-booking himself or running late to an appointment or forgetting an appointment. I realized then that he was using the office to avoid being home.
(to be continued...)
When Brick was born, I kept a handwritten journal, and wrote often during his infancy. In his baby book, I recorded the date each new tooth broke through the gum. I photographed our new little family and faithfully posted them to share with family and friends. I still use the camera and I still write, but gone are the days when I actually posted pictures in a timely manner, or was able to find a pen and the baby book to record the appearance of a new tooth.
Brick now reads. He turns five later this month. He has been reading random words for a few months now. He does pretty well sounding out words as well. He is still very compassionate, smart, and talkative. But, he also has grown picky about some foods and his attention-seeking behaviors have turned negative on occasion. Some might say his 'boy' energy is showing. For the most part, he is a really wonderful older brother to Puddles.
Puddles could not be cuter. I am surprised just how much he picks up by imitation of his brother and myself (and others, too, I'm sure). Around 16-18 months, he added phrases to his single words (one of the first discernible word was my given name), "I will" "I do" "there you go", for example. He also sings songs that one can figure out by melody; songs like "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star", "Trot, Old Joe", and "Old MacDonald". He walks around and randomly sings "EIEIO...quack quack quack". After visiting my sister in Texas, now he also says, "hot cocoa" in a very charming manner. He likes to help with everything--getting dressed, cooking, cleaning, carrying items, et cetera. He wants to do all things himself. He will turn two next month. He's very social and loves to be outside. He also likes scribbling.
I am trying to bring about changes in our lives. My partner and I attending counseling separately and together. This has been on-going for the last couple of months. We have witnessed some positive changes in how we relate to each other and plan on continuing with therapy until we feel secure that we can do this family thing well on our own. Personally, I feel more secure than I have in quite awhile. So, life is looking a little bit brighter, as we all keep learning and growing together.
