I justed wanted to put something in writing to see if made any more sense to me than it did when I rationalized it to myself in my mind. Ok, so here it is:
Heather smoked pot when I did have a job. Heather smokes pot now that I don’t have a job. Heather says she’ll quit when I get a job.
Oh, and Heather said she had quit because Rabbit quit but they smoked last night. She also says that she doesn’t care whether I’m there or not.
Not to mention the fact that she wants to complain about money (which is a valid complaint) and yet she’s saying she’ll ‘hit him back with some today’ meaning she’ll buy some, meaning she’ll spend some of this money we apparently don’t have on bud.
Nope, it still make absolutely no fucking sense to me. I woke up the other night (alone, as usual) to the sound of Jerry Springer.
“I’m 19, I want to party.”
Hmm, where did I hear that? Sounds like Heatherism to me. You know, my aunt might have been wrong about alot of things, but she wasn’t wrong when she made the comment that my life sounded like it was an episode of Jerry Springer. She was actually dead on.
Do I enjoy having to rely on my wife to support me financially? No. Do I enjoy not having a job? Honestly, yes. But also, no. I want to be able to have money for myself and be able to help provide in a relationship that was supposed to be equal. Do I enjoy not being able to be around people? No. Is it my fucking fault? No.
Let’s do a comparisson. Her “best friend” (she calls him her best friend now, which used to be Tabitha, who was bumped from being her best friend because she did dope and she didn’t want to hang around her but now she hangs around her again, even though she talks shit about her behind her back) has some sort of “social anxiety”. As to why he’s on an anti-deppressant and not an anti-psychotic and mood stabilizer, it’s beyond me, but anyway: she goes over there to comfort him when he needs comforting, meanwhile leaving me at home to wonder when she’s going to be back from these “comfort sessions”, which by the way, are nothing more than five minutes of her talking to him, and then them lighting up the bong. Yeah, that’s therapy. She sympathizes with him because it’s “not his fault”. But when it comes to me and practically the same problem, it’s all my fault. No sympathy for the devil, apparently.
I don’t get it. And I probably never will. Not now, not later, not soon, not ever. I never doubted her “loyalty” to this marriage until the whole her sleeping with Joey thing, but now I do nothing but constantly worry about whether she’s telling me the truth. She hangs out with nothing but guys, smokes weed, drinks, and she says she doesn’t do pills or anything like that anymore, but hey, the only thing i have to go on is her word. Which means, well… when it comes from a woman who’s supposed to be your wife, and she doesn’t come home until 3 in the morning after a vigourous work out with the pipe, only to watch tv and sleep on the couch, much less spend any so called “quality” time with me doing something I actually enjoy for once, what the hell am I supposed to do?
Yeah, sure honey, I believe you.
It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she were to tell me that she had been sleeping with Rabbit. Or Joey again. Or anybody else she hangs out with, apart from Joey, Tabitha and Rabbit, I haven’t even met, with the exception of her drug dealer 40 something “friend” Ron, who I met for two minutes at Wal Mart, simply because we ran into him. But hey, who can blame her, I’m just her dead beat husband who she’s ashamed of anyway, right?
What about me? What about my needs? What about my need for comfort? What about my need for companionship? I guess that plays second fiddle to her need to get high and hang out with other men. You know, when you put it in writing, it seems even worse than it sounds when you argue about it.
I don’t know what the worst part is: the fact that she does it, or the fact that I just don’t care anymore? If she wants to go out and fuck other guys, whatever. If she wants to spend her time getting high for whatever reason she has to get high, whatever. She’s a grown woman. She can do whatever she wants. But if she thinks that saying I love you means the same now as it did back when I was actually happy in this relationship, she’s got another thing coming.
People don’t just fall out of love – they gradually ease out of it due to the circumstances they are placed in against their will. I wonder if she knows the difference?