What A Day For A Night

July 13, 2006 at 9:28 AM | Posted in Journal | 4 Comments
  So, I wanted to give you all an update.  It’s really too soon to say how things are going, with me, with the wife, with the kids.  I do appreciate all of your kind thoughts and words.  It’s good to have a support system in place. 
  Patti, you have become a dear friend.  I wish we were neighbors.  You feel  like a neighbor.  The kind that leaves her back door unlocked so I can come in and sit down, root through your fridge while you are gone.  I’ll make you lunch, it’ll be ready when you get back, okay?  And I think you are right, and I am  .. . .investigating some columnal possibilities.  I will keep you posted.
  And all of you:  I’m a guy, so I’m not going to cry in front of all of you.  But you have all touched me, touched my heart.  All I can say is, a little lower, and towards the middle….
  All of you have–well, Kim hasn’t said anything.  Whattsa mattayou, huh?  When the going gets tough you just abandon me?  Is that how it’s gonna be?  I was looking for some sage counsel, or perhaps parsley, or rosemary.
  Give it thyme, I’m sure you’ll come up with something.
  And I’m just kidding–I don’t want you to feel any pressure to give me solace in my time of need, when I am reaching out like a bloodsucking leech, trying to drain all of the happiness out of the room. 
  Don’t worry, I am not looking for an emotional tampon.  I actually feel pretty good. 
  The last couple of days have been        good.
  I get to my dad’s house Sunday night, and despite all of my warnings and his agreement to the same, I guess he didn’t really think I would do it, but there I was, bag in hand, at his doorstep. 
  I know he was surprised because he didn’t clean out the room I was going to stay in.  So…
  I ended up sleeping in his room, with him.
  It’s not as weird as it sounds, okay?  I mean, we don’t fit to well on a twin bed, but we made do.
  I’m trying to lighten the mood a bit, okay?  Chill.  I did sleep with him, in his gi-normous king size bed.  Here’s the odd thing:  I slept in my underwear, with no blanket, and turned the fan on.  He was under several layers of blankets.  And he left the light on.  All night.  I know this because when I woke up approximately every 37 minutes, yup, the light was still on.  About 4 am I turned the fan off.  But I still wanted it on.  I am hot, babies.  Hot.
  I get up about 5:30, he’s already up. He’s a 70 year old retired guy, so it’s pretty natural for him to be up this freakin early for no apparent reason.
  Anyway, I get to work before 6:30 am.  Three cars in the parking lot besides mine, some other high-achieving managers long divorced from any personal life.  This is just a guess.  The first day is hard, actually the first morning.  It gets easier as the days and nights go by.
  I cried at my desk the first morning.  Everything, all at once, and this was the first time I had been alone.  But it got better, and I got better.  All I do is think now, though, so that can’t be good for me.
  The odd thing to me was, that whole first day, Monday, Linda never called.  Which was good, because I didn’t need that.  Tuesday she called me at work, wanting to make sure we coordinated on my son’s doctor appointment the next day. 
  The next day, the next morning, I picked up the kids from her, took them to my son’s appointment, took them back home.  The kids seemed to be fine.  Mitchell was talkative and Miranda was quiet, which was unusual.  Mitchell, I think, wanted to fill the silence.
  I see a basket of my clothes, clean and folded, I take it.  I grab my sisters computer, which I had been building.  I get on the internet and take care of a few things, and I delete a bunch of stuff off of the computer.  Evidence?  Not sayin.  I take the mail, the bills, so I can pay them.
  I get the kids some lunch, and Miranda rides with me.  She is quiet.  But she asks me, "Daddy, why can’t you come back and stay with us?"
  Uhm.  Okay.  That sentence was hard, just to type it.  I explained, as best as I could, that it was hard to explain.  But I did say I would like to live up here, near her, so that I would be close and she could come over any time, or I could come and get her.  She liked that idea.  In fact, she said, "Well that’s what I was going to say.  Can you live up here near us?"
  So I told her it would be a while, but I would work it out because I want to be near her.  She seemed to be okay.  She seemed to be taking this better than me.  Kids are resiliant.
  So I go to work.  Later in the afternoon, Linda calls me.  Twice.  To talk.  To beg me to come back.  She promised to change, to work on it.  To try to be better.  This is a goddamn bitter pill for me to swallow, and it sticks in my craw e’en now.  I had to leave for her to realize that there is, after all, a real problem with how she treats me?
  The begging and pleading is hard for me to hear.  Desperation.  I can hear it in her voice, the terror.  To think the unthinkable, that she has lost me, and now will be alone.  It hurts.  It hurts me to hurt her like this.  I want to run to her, to take her in my arms, to kiss her and hold her, and tell her it was a mistake, and I’m sorry too. . .
  But I can’t.
  The hurt runs deep within me.  I can’t.  I can’t go back.  I can’t go back to the way things were.  And it will be the same, I know.  Or worse.  It would be better for a while,  I might even get some great sex out of it.  She thinks that is what this is about, anyway.  Sex.  Don’t get me wrong, some of it is.  I’m not so shallow that I can’t admit that I am shallow.
  Either sex is important to you, or it isn’t.  It’s either a part of the relationship, or it isn’t.  But just as important as the sex is . . .not having it.  Being turned away.  Turned down.  Rejected.  Brushed off. Day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day after fucking day after goddamn day after another motherfucking day and again after another day and still one more fucking day of rejection and humiliation and eating crow and being made to feel like crap because I want it, I want it all the time it seems like.  Don’t I think about anything else?
  Well, I want it less and less as time goes by.  She made me lower my standards as to what was acceptible.  But not only the no sex but also the no touching, no kissing– I haven’t kissed in I don’t know how long.  Is it still done with the lips, with the touching?
  How about a hug, or a caress, or touch my hand?  How about a greeting when I come IN THE GODDAMN DOOR!  Fuck, I’m angry.  How about rubbing my back once.  Once.  Ever.  Once.  I rub her back nightly, until I have cramps in my hands, they hurt, and I rub still more.  She wondered why I went to a chiropractor to get my back taken care of.  How about–
  Okay, hold on.  Christ.  This is turning into a mindless rant.  I’m trying to talk about how good my week has been so far.  I get off the phone with her, not once, but twice.  She recommends we got to some counseling or something.  Maybe.  Maybe a few years ago.  It’s too late for me.  Me, right here (see, I’m tapping my chest, near my heart, for effect.  You’d have to see the visual to fully get it.  Imagine I’m doing it, thought)–in here, I’m already gone.
  Tuesday I work late, cause I have no where else to go.  I go to the store to buy a cd I had been wanting.  In fact, the cd I was on my way to buy when my wheel fell off.  It’s a good thing my life isn’t boring, otherwise I’d have nothing to write about, right?  I come home–well, actaully, to my dad’s house; I don’t feel like I have a home right now.  I’m just a visitor–eat something, chat with my dad, watch tv waiting for the All-Star game to start.
  Just as an aside, totally off-topic:  The All-star game has to be the biggest anti-climax in baseball.  Did the game ever actually start?  Fuck.  All the build-up, interviews, special reports, blah-blah-fucking-blah.  Throw the goddamn ball already.  This may be why I am not a big sports-on-TV watcher.
  So I moved the stuff around in the spare bedroom, set up my shit.  Home.  Not a home, but a cave to crawl into at night.  I fell asleep alone, in the dark, naked.  No cover.  Fan on high.  It was the purest moment of bliss in days.
  Wednesday I work, feeling better.  Talked to the kids the day before, I feel things will work out for me with them.  I hope.  God, I hope.  Linda calls me again that–
  Wait.  I completely have my days fucked up.  I have no — is this Wednesday?  Thursday?  Thursday.
  So I was right.  Okay.  Nevermind.  Except Wednesday was my son’s doctor appointment.  Shift that all to the right, okay?  Tuesday I went home, moved my stuff around, yadda-yadda.  My internal calendar is a little confused.
  Last night I had a wedding to go to.  A good friend of mine, a girl who had worked for me.  I got hugged a few times, it was good.  Hope I didn’t come off as needy.  I mean, I am needy, I just didn’t want to appear that way.
  It was a nice, informal ceremony, and I was good, although people kept shushing me.  I guess cat-calling is inappropriate at a wedding?
  "Do you, Krystal, take this man–"
  "Don’t do it!"
  "–to have and to hold–"
  "Run now!  Get your money back!"
  "–from this day forward–"
  "Yeah, right!"
  "–til death do you part?"


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  1. yeah i am a strong believer in marriage being over rated. But hey I got a great kid out of the divorce. And now he just ran up to me and said "my mom mom". Best feeling in the world

  2. holy fuck (said the nun to the pope)! This seals it! First you\’re oggling your cousins at a family reunion (er… wake, sorry), then ya leave your wife (and about goddamn time… were ya waiting for someone to put a gun to your fucking head, or what?)… and now you\’re sleeping with your dad! christ in a sidecar! you are so totally messed up!
    so, you\’re okay, then? well.. that\’s good.
    my work here is done.. I can go spread my sunshine elsewhere now
    hugs and all that other shit

  3. Yea I know I haven\’t updated in awhile… I feel like I\’m just too whiney/needy right now to mar up my nice sweet last blogpost..lol  But I\’m as ok as I can be at the moment I suppose. 
    Don\’t u have msgr or somethin\’? If so, u should add me so we can see who can outwhine the other..hehe  Bet I\’d win.. but that\’s just cuz I\’m so damn competitive *grins  Anyhoo, I think I gave u my email b4, but if u want, I\’ll give it again ..just lemme know.
    Reading this reminds me of my memories of the \’leaving cycle\’… you\’re following it to a T.  (why is it a T anyway..why not a F or a G..those at least can be morphed into some nice cuss words..) The her calling part, the \’I\’ll change\’ part… the part where u realize it\’s too late to make it all better cuz the hurts been done part.. been there done that got the fuckin t-shirt already.  The lack of sex *sighhhhh…lol  My guy\’s been gone away for nearly 13months now.. bet I got u beat.  nyah nyah… see how competitive I am? lol 
    I\’m glad the kids r taking it \’well\’ so to speak.  Your daughter especially.. it\’ll be hard at first for her.  But just make sure she understands it has NOTHING to do w/ her.  Even if she knows that already their young lil minds will wander there.. and usually they won\’t come right out and ask.. so just .. u know.. make sure you state that fact right out to her.  And it\’s good she wants you near, and that you plan to BE near.  You might just find out the quality time between you and your kids will be that much better without all the resentment w/ the wife in the way.  Fucked up how it works like that sometimes.. but it\’s true. 
    and yea.. I bet it is weird to go \’home\’ to dad\’s house every night.. everything all screwy-like right now.  But just remember it\’s just how it is now.. a stepping stone sorta thing.  A moment to rest and re-group til u can get your own place.  Good luck on the chance to grow and dream to your heart\’s content.. without any of that being put down, squashed down, simplified by the one that stopped dreaming WITH you a long time ago. 

  4. You know what I do now? (besides get drunk and read your blog and think how this would be me if I could write, dammit, because you hit every fucking nail on the head).  Go to weddings and cry.  CRY, not because of love, but becausee they fucked up and it\’s only a matter of time before they\’re gettin\’ divorced like the rest of us.

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