Monday, February 2, 2009

Where Are They...?

Today is just a normal day. It’s Monday and nothing exciting happens on Mondays. Oh! The Super Bowl was this weekend. Yah! . I had to sit there and listen to football almost all day. Joe thinks I like football. He goes on and on about how excited ‘I’ must be because football is coming on.. um… not! Has he ever asked me if I like it? No. He just takes things for granted. I guess it’s my fault because I don’t just come right and say it. God forbid if I did. That would probably cause an atomic bomb that would cause the end of the earth as we know it and I will be the blame for all the cocoa fields to vanish and never being able to eat chocolate again. I couldn’t have that riding on my conscience.

So what else? Have I told you that I am a younger sister? Yep! I’m the baby of the family. I have one older sister. No younger sisters. No brothers. Just the two of us. I always wanted a brother though. A big brother, someone that would take up for me and be there whenever I needed him. My sister, well let’s just say that she wasn’t around very much. I still have my dad living. I love him with all of my heart. I am SO a “Daddy’s Girl”. I just think that when he and my mom divorced (when I was 13) and my sister was ‘doing her own thing’, well, I lived with my Dad and I don’t think he really knew how to handle a girl, especially a 13 year old teenager. He worked a lot of long hours, mostly at night. So that meant that there wasn’t a lot of time for ‘us’ then. Not like it used to be. Now I see that I had a really good life. I had my best friend that lived across the street. I used to hang out with her and her family a lot when I was with my Amigos.

Why do we need men? And NO! I am NOT a lesbian! I am not about to turn into a lesbian! I just wonder why we need the male bonding thing? I love the way a man can touch you, caress you, and tell you that everything will be okay.. and believe them. The hardest part is the believing them. I know all men aren’t the same. I know that some men are assholes and I know that some men are the most compassionate, caring, gentle, giving, funny, passionate, soulful, and loving creature on the earth. I actually “know” of such a person, a man, but it’s not the man that I call my husband. So I know that there are good men out there. Why is it that I chose the one that is none of these things?

A good man is out there. One that is ready to make the lifelong, fairy tale, commitment. It just seems to me that the good ones are already taken…


  1. The heads on one side of the coin has tails on the other. Sometimes we just take what comes up. My wife and I have been married since 1955. It will be 54 years this July. A long time that flies past.

    Thanks for taking a look at my hawk painting.

  2. I'm going to be blunt and hope you are accepting that this advice comes from a loving place.

    We all teach the people in our lives how to treat us. You need to take responsibility for the fact that you've allowed your husband to be a selfish, cheating, slim ball while still remaining in your life. You need to get help, so that you will value yourself enough to ensure this will never happen again. Your goal should be to get to a place where you wouldn't hesitate for a second to leave ANY relationship that proves to be disrespectful on an ongoing basis. There are certain 'deal killers' in a marriage and your man has committed a whole bunch!

    Your husband hates himself, thus there is no way he can possibly love anyone else. You remaining in this relationship is not only extremely harmful to you, it is to him as well. Pack your things today and get the hell out. This is not to say there isn't hope for your marriage. If your husband decides to look within (I mean REALLY look within) and work on himself with professional help, then some day you may be able to have a relationship....but, in the meantime, you have to get away from this toxitity. And, you can't be together while you are both getting the professional help necessary.

    Good luck and please keep us posted.