I Hate That Man That I Love
an excerpt

I hate that man that I love

Part 1 the wife Loretta

I think we have the typical story, met young, lived fast and died young-oh I mean married young. But lately I have been thinking that's the same thing. I don't know why some of the most simple things in life can become so difficult. Like socks. Yes socks. White warm sometimes fuzzy things made for your feet. Been around for decades. Yes this man has turned socks from that into torture devices. Making sure to not only wear them until they have a healthy coating of black tar (where he finds tar pits and then decides to walk in them, I will never know) and manages to peel them off with his toes because even he knows that they are too disgusting to touch and toss them in every spot in the house except the dirty hamper. I have stumbled over these disgusting things while walking into the bathroom, bending to wipe a stain on the floor in the kitchen, and the dreaded spot, two feet in front of the hamper. But when I am screaming, “You dirty no good stankin bastard come get your socks!!!” He has the nerve to say that I am a nag. Nevermind the 500 times I have said it like this, “Darling, honey, sweety pie please pick up these things you call socks.” No no no that doesn't work that tone of voice never works.

Small short torture that many other women who are beaten, abused, and taken advantage of would only wish for, I know. But it's still torture all the same. Like that old chinese torture (I think Chinese) where they would lay the person on the table, tie them down and slowly drip water on their forehead. Drip, drip, drip. Sure that's better then being drowned in the ocean but after awhile you are going to want to kill yourself all the same. So my husband of 6 years (6! only 6 feels like 106) is laying in the bed and he tells me that he is not in the mood to have sex because of my mouth. My mouth!! At first I decide to play it calm and find out exactly what is on his mind because his communication goes as far as, “I'm hungry, I don't know, get the kids (more about them later), and um, I don't know” So I say, “what do you mean, what do I say?”
“um, I don't know”
“Did I say anything to bother you today?”
“no”
“So what do you mean?”
“ your mouth, in the past makes me not be in the mood with you.”
Now I can feel my chest heaving and my teeth clenching and my mind losing it's composure. “so we are going on things in the past? If we were going on things we have done to each other in the past then I would become mother teresa with all the lack of sex I wouldn't have with you.”
“see I knew you wouldn't understand.”and then he rolls over and places the blanket over his head, as he always does to tell me he is now going to pretend to sleep, to avoid me. Fake snoring commenses.

“YOU DIRTY BASTARD! HOW DARE YOU TRY TO MAKE ME FEEL GUILTY LIKE I'VE DONE SOMETHING SO HORRIBLE TO YOU. I DONT CARE IF YOU DON'T EVER HAVE SEX WITH ME BECAUSE I AM GORGEOUS AND YOU ARE THIS HIDEOUS 100 POUND OVERWEIGHT MAN ( more like 40 or 50 overweight) AND COULDN'T HAVE SEX IF I DIDN'T GIVE IT TO YOU ANYWAY!! THIS IS A FREE FUCKIN COUNTRY AND I CAN SAY WHAT THE FUCK I WANT WHEN I WANT AND IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, I'LL JUST FUCK SOMEBODY ELSE!!!!!!!!!!!”

I don't usually curse at all. In fact if you asked my friends, coworkers, or family they would say that they have never heard me curse and rarely lose my tempter. It's amazing what a closed door, insane husband and strained communication can do to you.
So our four kids are getting louder and louder and I realized it was well of 7:30 am on Saturday and that was the time for them to begin to get rowdy. They have been up since about 6 but stay quiet as much as they can before they can't help themselves. Three of them are ours. My oldest is by my high school sweetheart who turned out to be a no good devil. But now I wonder if I would've married him, would life have been so different. The only difference was he didn't try to hide his evilness. In fact I dont even know how I ended up pregnant with him because he was always no good from the beginning. Mostly just cheating with different women and telling me I was worthless. I was so different then, I actually believed those things he told me. Not like my husband who showered me with goodness, took care of my child told me I was beautiful only to shut down and become the jerk I see before me now. Anyway I go to them feeling guilty because as much as I can tell myself they don't hear us arguing I know they do. I remember very vividly hearing my parents argue and understanding at a very young age so I can't use their young ages as an excuse either. They are 3, 4, 6 and 8. Yes I didn't stop to take a break. What's strange is I only remember making up with my husband long enough to make them and that's it, then he was detestable again. They are all sitting on the floor tossing toys about and cutting paper. That's another thing my husband does, he never puts anything away so now my kids get everything I try to put out of reach. Shreds of paper are strewn about their bedroom as my 4 year old son clips about not even aware that I am there and the jig is up. My 8 year old nudge my my 4 year old and he looks up and sees me. He immediately drops the scissors, looking afraid. I would have to say that my life isn't as insane as you think when it comes to motherhood. I have fully understood from the beginning that you must grasp discipline to get your to grow and to obey. If only that worked with husbands... I tell the others to go watch cartoons while my 4 year old had to clean on his own. I begin preparing breakfast and can't help but wonder what my husband would like to eat. The worst part about being married after awhile, especially when you have children together, is that no matter how much he drives you crazy you have this instinct deep down to want to see them happy. I swear if only I could fully deny that instinct and I think I could get more of what I want out of this marriage. After all, why would he continue to torture me if I could easily torture him back? But alas I make his favorite cheese eggs with bacon sprinkled within hoping that it would be a peace offering from me screaming at him this morning. Even though he started it.

Just as I am making the plates and placing them on the table I hear the front door opening. I walk out into the living room and see my husband fully dressed and ready to escape. I don't need to ask where he is going, I already know. Another torture of his is his friends. And it's not like they are close buddies he grew up with, no these are the first guys he bumps into that offers him a beer. They usually live close by so that he can seek refuge in them even when I hide the car keys. He uses spending time with them revenge because he knows how I absolutely hate how much time he spends away from home. They are all single with no families and no understanding of how they take my husband away from me. He usually goes to their house and stays for hours. He says he plays video games and drinks beer, that's it. But for 6 hours?! I have accused him several times for really sneaking out with another woman but deep down inside I know its ridiculous not only because he is this fat man with stinky socks but I never have that true intuitative feeling about it. He spends so much time with his friends that I have actually contemplated that he could be one of those under cover gay married men like the report that they did on NBC dateline. Whatever it is, I know one thing for sure it pisses me off and gets me overflowing with contempt. Without thinking, I grab a plate off of the oven and get ready to toss it. But then I stop myself after hearing my 3 year old daughter laugh at something she was looking at on television. I place the plate down and run behind him just as he is stepping off of our porch. “FINE GO OUT AND FUCK YOUR FRIENDS, I BET THEY CAN DEAL WITH YOUR NO GOOD ASS BETTER THEN I CAN!!!!” I'm sure my neighbors think I am crazy by now.

My husband works third shift. The one thing about him, he is a hard working man and he makes sure to remind me of that every waking moment. During the week, I must tiptoe around the house or else he wakes up and screams, “I have to work, to pay these damn bills!!” Yes because taking care of four children doesn't pay damn bills it just raises human beings and cleans behind your stankin' ass. I knew when he first got his position as a welder it was going to more money and opportunity for us, he never knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life and he is not the college kind of guy, but once he said third shift was available I knew what was going to happen. I knew that he was going to use having to work all night as an excuse for us to worship him like some kind of God of the night. I have to hear all these things, “like I'm exhausted, and I work ALL night and can you please let me sleep?” even if he has been laying in the bed from the time he got off of work at 6a.m. until the time he has to go back to work at 9p.m. Hmmm I think you have had your 8 hours during the day don't you think? But what really kills me is that the minute one of his friends call on the cell phone or come knocking at the door (yes Mrs. Shaw can your husband come out to play? is about the extent of my conversation with them.)he suddenly has this new found strength where he can jump out of bed, shower and speed out of the house. Funny, I have never heard him whine to his friends “I'm exhausted!”