Holy shit! We made it to the 20 year mark. Of course, I'm pretty sure he forgot, and I don't care to remind him.
I truly hate feeling this way. I sat here yesterday thinking, well, if he genuinely wants to work on our marriage, then maybe I should work with him. That's a huge "if," of course.
And then last night he was a complete dickhead. I just questioned whether the bottles of various sauces he brought from our house were safe to consume, after having been in an un-air-conditioned house in record-breaking heat for two months before it started cooling down. He was screaming at me that he didn't want to waste the $5 he paid for each bottle, and I'm staring at him incredulously. Seriously? He puts $5 ahead of his potential safety? He refused to do any checking as to whether it was safe. See, if it were unsafe, the can would explode. He wouldn't eat anything from an exploded (or bulging) can. All the food storage that was in the garage, well obviously he's not going to bring it home. But the "good stuff" that was in the kitchen is fine.
And I threw a cover into the living room so he knew he had to sleep on the couch, and I went to bed and had dreams of being 21 again, and about to marry into a really fundy family (who all hated me), and my former boss who is also a good friend of mine came to my rescue.
And then it was morning, my 20th anniversary, and I got up and drank a cup of coffee, ate a piece of toast, and played solitaire on my computer until it was 5 minutes past time to leave for work. Happy anniversary. NOT!
I truly hate feeling this way. I sat here yesterday thinking, well, if he genuinely wants to work on our marriage, then maybe I should work with him. That's a huge "if," of course.
And then last night he was a complete dickhead. I just questioned whether the bottles of various sauces he brought from our house were safe to consume, after having been in an un-air-conditioned house in record-breaking heat for two months before it started cooling down. He was screaming at me that he didn't want to waste the $5 he paid for each bottle, and I'm staring at him incredulously. Seriously? He puts $5 ahead of his potential safety? He refused to do any checking as to whether it was safe. See, if it were unsafe, the can would explode. He wouldn't eat anything from an exploded (or bulging) can. All the food storage that was in the garage, well obviously he's not going to bring it home. But the "good stuff" that was in the kitchen is fine.
And I threw a cover into the living room so he knew he had to sleep on the couch, and I went to bed and had dreams of being 21 again, and about to marry into a really fundy family (who all hated me), and my former boss who is also a good friend of mine came to my rescue.
And then it was morning, my 20th anniversary, and I got up and drank a cup of coffee, ate a piece of toast, and played solitaire on my computer until it was 5 minutes past time to leave for work. Happy anniversary. NOT!
Unhappy anniversary to you. Maybe you'll be lucky enough to NOT make it to 21. :P (Don't listen to me, I'm just happy that mine didn't quite make it to the 18 year mark--that anniversary is coming up in a week and a half or so).
ReplyDeleteI suppose you could have him test everything first, and wait for the food poisoning to set in. That seems like kind of an evil way to settle the argument - "You're certain it's fine, so you'd be willing to eat something with that sauce to prove it, right?" - but if he's already refusing to do that, then it's a thoroughly pointless argument.
ReplyDeleteAgain, I don't know your situation, but your description doesn't sound like a marriage that can be saved. (And, frankly, even if you've just hit a point where you can no longer bring yourself to try to fix it - which happened to me, with my Supposed Former Marriage - then it's not fixable.) So I'd have to agree with Becky - it sounds like it's time to let this one go, and move on to something else.
It can get better. Sometimes it's hard to realize that, but it can. And if you want someone to chat with, feel free to drop me a line. michael mock [at] mock writing {dott} com
And if my advice comes off as pompous (or otherwise unwelcome), let me know and I'll keep it to myself. Cheerfully, even.
That sucks. My first husband used to throw tantrums like that. I felt like I was babysitting an adult. Not fun. And when it's not fun, what's the point?
ReplyDelete