40s Singleness-Dating in Your 40s: Assclowns & Douchebags- #3

2008-03-25

Assclowns & Douchebags- #3

see more crazy cat pics

Coming back to Kansas to finish college was one of the first steps I took in gaining some self confidence. Unfortunately, meeting up with #3 did nothing to further that.

#3

I have no qualms at all calling a spade a spade in this case. He was almost the biggest assclown of them all. I first met #3 when I was 18. That in itself, and relationship we had at that time, should have been enough for me to realize this was a dangerous road to go down. Of course, at the time, I didn't see it that way.

No, rather than seeing it and him, for what it was I romanticized it. In the very beginning it was good, but the good didn't last long. It wasn't long before he began to show his ugly, true colors. And yet, he sucked me in.

He was an obvious alcoholic and an extremely inconsiderate one at that. When he wasn't with me, he could easily be found at any bar in town. He ran so hot and cold that he easily could have been the basis for NML's Mr. Unavailable and the Fallback Girl.

When he knew I was ready to walk, he'd show up with flowers in hand all kinds of apologetic. He could be very charming when he needed to be and he became an expert at reeling me in and then throwing me back out again all the time telling me how much he loved me.

I, for whatever reason, was totally hooked. We were together for a year or so when I had enough and kicked his ass to the curb. I felt good about it. I finished my degree Suma Cum Laude and began working in earnest on my career. For a year and a half I was single. I dated some but, for the most part, I threw myself into my girls and my job.

Then the loneliness started to get to me. I became so focused on it that it almost consumed me. I remember driving home from my parents' house about an hour away. I was so miserable that I couldn't imagine anything worse. And, as things sometimes go, I began to believe that being with #3 was better than being alone. After all, I knew what I was dealing with and even that hadn't been this bad.

Once the seed was planted, I managed to nurture it until I honestly believed he was the lesser of two evils. I wrote him a letter and asked to talk. He professed his undying love and promised things would be different. I was just desperate enough to believe him. Four months later we were married. And it was then that the hell really began.

For awhile, he delivered on his promises but sometimes a leopard truly cannot change his spots. Soon he not only began drinking again, but he began drinking more than he ever had before. He worked only sporadically and spent like the ATM was his very own bottomless pit. He bounced from job to job and bar to bar.

When he was around, he spent his time making beautifuleldestdaughter's life hell. Poor girl couldn't do a damn thing right. When he wasn't nagging on her, he was completely ignoring us. When he didn't go straight to the bar after work, he would come home and retreat to the basement. Many nights he didn't resurface even for dinner. When he did, we wished he hadn't. A simple meal was a horribly painful experience as no one at the table had manners to meet his standards or didn't clean their plate which, in his eyes, was a sin.

Throw in a horrid ex wife and two kids I had to deal with when they were there because he was in his cave, and life became an absolute living hell.

Things, of course, escalated. My girls were miserable. I carried around a guilt that grew exponentially daily and had an awful time convincing myself that failure in this case was okay.

Not only was I married to a mean drunk, he continued to spend like we had won the lottery. On top of that, he was diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder. It really couldn't have gotten any worse...until it did.

One Friday night he didn't come home. Next morning the phone rang and it was his boss asking if I knew where he was. Obviously, I didn't but his boss did. He was in jail having been picked up on his 4th DUI. I told the boss that, as far as I was concerned, his ass could sit in jail. I said that if he wanted him out to come to work, he was going to have to bail him out. He did.

Freshly sprung from jail, he showed up back home and headed straight for the basement. The tension in the house was like nothing I'd ever imagined. When he finally emerged, I sent the girls to the school playground and told him I had had enough. Still trying to face the fact that I was failing at marriage again, I issued an ultimatum. He could have a wife or he could have alcohol, but he could no longer have both.

He moved out on our 2nd anniversary. Eight months later, I was in bankruptcy court.