- Gender and Relationships»
Revenge or Ridiculous
Anyone over the age of 30 has heard of the 7 year itch, in reference to marriage. In this case, this man was slow to respond to his itch. It took him an amazing… staggeringly dedicated 21 years.
This devoted man of 47 maneuvered through a mine field of a marriage consisting of her hormonal rages, her inability to cook – and lack of interest in trying to cook. Most women, when decorating their new home, make the kitchen high on their list of demands, but, not this wife. The most vital room to her is the bedroom she turned into a closet…complete with temperature control. Her hubby did a magnificent job of decorating the kitchen with an old Tuscan flavor. He is, after all, the one who does the cooking.
This dutiful husband has a wonderful position with a company he’s been with for some years, yet, he took a second job to support her frequent, quite costly shopping trips for not only her, but, her mother as well.
This woman is my friend, never the less it turns my stomach to see how poorly she treats her husband. Without a doubt he would be the ideal partner for any woman, especially a woman willing to work alongside her mate. All she does is nag and critique him and put him down. He’s a great cook, but she finds something to complain about in every meal. If it had been me taking her abuse the next meal she got would have been my shoe down her throat.
It upsets me to think of the beautiful home they live in, professionally decorated with only the best is now too small, at 5,000 sq. ft. They’ve been there for 4 years and now she feels it’s time to upgrade to 7, 000 sq. ft.
Okay, as I mentioned he finally got the itch, finally. I’m never one to support cheating in a marriage, but this man was so sad and so disenchanted with the treatment he was receiving that if he was cheating I had to side with him.
He began to change his habits. He quit his second job and began taking the long way home from job number 1. He bought a few new polo shirts and new underwear, which is never a good sign. The Saturdays he used to spend being brow beat by his wife as he cleaned the stainless steel in his kitchen ceased. He became the stealth husband. Even when he was there he wasn’t there, well, not emotionally.
As close as we were, it took about two weeks before wife decided to break down and admit to me she feared he might be doing the horizontal mambo with another woman. Of course, being a good friend I denied he had a reason to cheat on her.
“Of course he has no reason. We have a happy marriage and the sex couldn’t be better.” By the tone of her voice I knew she was trying to convince herself, not I.
In the space of just a few minutes she became so visibly angry, it was as if Angela Bassett kicked in the door from the movie “Waiting To Exhale”, and took over her body. She began to gather up his favorite outfits and hats and with the precision of a surgeon she carved his hats and suits up like a buffet roast beef. I was stunned silent. I’d read about it and seen that level of rage in the movies, but not in person. I was in the presence of Mood Swing Barbie!
When she was done she took the remnants of his Giorgio Armani suits – yes, plural, and all the rest of the shreds and deposited them in the garage where he would see the damage as he pulled in.
Within minutes of her shutting the garage door hubby’s door opener engages. With the lust of a man scientist she ran to yank open the door. There he was on his knees in the pile of thousands of dollars of shredded fabric, hats and shoes. He looked at her, and with a face I will not soon forget he asked, “Why?”
“Honey, why would you do something like this?”
She yelled out, “To teach you a lesson. I bet you won’t cheat on me again, will you?”
“Cheat? Me?” He asked in a voice so soft I could scarcely hear him.
She went on to tell him about every day he wasn’t home, the times he left and the times he returned. As she ranted on and on, louder and louder, she saved the best for last. “You great big, strong, virile man you. You know your supply of Extenze and your little blue pill’s(?), well, whoever you’re doing you won’t be doing her much longer because I flushed them all.”
All he could do was say, “You silly, silly woman”.
“I wasn’t cheating. You had me so ready to leave you that I decided to go and get help. I knew that I needed to find a reason to stay with you. I knew I needed to find the love I have for you that got buried under all of your evil, manipulative ways. I was trying to save our marriage because I knew you didn’t value me enough to do anything to save it”.
He went on to say, “Look in my trunk, Sherlock Holmes. You go through my wallet, my cell phone and everything else I have how did you miss seeing the workbook from the relationship counseling class I’m taking.”
My heart broke for this man who was calling out to his wife, his life partner to help him love her, help him save their union and she wasn’t there. The sad thing was that she had never been there, and quite possibly would never be there in the way that he needed.
You could tell by the look in her face that her wheels were in motion, and in a style all her own she became angry because he caused her to flush away their sex life. With that she turned on her heels and yelled, “Clean up that mess, too”.
She had been showing me who she was for some time, but that day she showed me how heartless she was toward a man who loved her so much he would lay his life down for her without a thought. I walked out of the garage and never went back. When she called I politely wished her luck, and said I could not associate with her any longer.