If I wouldn't wait three decades to choose another path, then why would I wait another minute?
What does it mean to stay married for Better or Worse? I pose this question to my family, Mom specifically. But she doesn't have an answer, leaving me to figure it out for myself once again. Uhg~ can't someone just tell me what to do?
I ponder modern-day marriage. I don't resent being the primary bread winner. I resent that I'm the 75% to 85% bread winner and that despite repeated, non-pressuring requests to find a consistent source of income there is still an absence of results.
Frontline is a repeat tonight about the history of derivatives, Brooksly Born, Alan Greenspan, the Clinton Administration and the recent crash. At the program's end my partner tells me, "this is why we have to make sure our own financial house is in order."
Really? Interesting...
If that comment had come at any other point in our 12-year history I would have internalized it, wondering what I'm doing wrong and how can I be better (so he won't leave). But the comment came tonight and I realize that I'm not the one who has to put their financial house in order. When your personal contribution to the household is 75+% it puts you in the power position and bullshit if he's going to put this gorilla on my back.
From my point of view, it's ALL ON ME and this is NOT what we agreed to. Unfortunately, we didn't agree to anything. I am the primary bread winner as well as the the primary parent. I am the person who pays the bills, calculates the budget, keeps our diet filled with vegetables, organizes house cleanings, goes to work even when I'm sick, picks up around the house and manages the never-shrinking to-do list. I have a 401K and a plan to pay off debt. But tell me, what good does it do if everytime I turn around there's another charge on the card or a loan taken out on the personal line of credit to cover someone's business expenses.
I hear the other day that the truck needs a $400-500 repair and that it needs to go on the credit card. Great! What's the plan to repay the credit card, I ask.
He retorts with, "well I have to have a truck that works."
"I agree, but right now our expenses outweigh our income and there is nothing else I can do to increase my salary." I have pushed for raises and promotions for 5+ years straight and my efforts have yielded a 100% increase over when I started at my company. What can I say about my spouse except that with my rising frustration he seems more a cost center than a profit center. Tell me again about getting our financial house in order. He'll be 65 in less than 15 years without a cent set aside for retirement. That'll coincide nicely with high school graduation... sure hope the kids are smart enough for full scholarships.
Look, I know I'm "bitchin'" here, but I want to know what FOR BETTER OR WORSE means? He comes home after repairing the truck to tell me he had to drive around for a while because my words were "hurtful." Seriously? Hurtful?
I think about everything I could have said and the tone I could have used. For years I have bitten my tongue because of the risk of losing him. I have curbed my gender's tendency to nag, whine and be taken care of and what has it gotten me? Now I'm the man ~ and I don't want to be the man!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Drama at a Glance #3
"Three different people have come up to me this morning talking about your Brazilian," he states with that cocky assuredness that makes me want to swing a bat at his head.
"What are you talking about?"
"It's all over the company. Don't worry, I'm sure your boss will talk to you about it."
What the F? How does he know? And more importanly, which three people? We were all joking about hygiene at dinner the night before, bordering on over-shares because of one colleague's refusal to filter his communication. Red creeps to my ears and there is less than a minute to pull it together and make it in time to the two-hour breakout session.
Two hours will pass before I can take a deep breath, before I can talk to a friend, before I can verify that I still have a job. Is he fuckin' with me? I vacilate between wanting to hog-tie the three people with whom I joked about waxing and then wanting to tell the cocky one to shove it up his ass.
One moment I'm wrestling with embarrassment that there is an entire coversation among the throngs of employees about my girl parts - will I have to bury myself in a corner, turn the volume down on my laugh and bow my head in shame? The next moment I'm telling myself to hold my head up high, that if someone has an opinion or judgement about me that they can go to hell. "Yeah, I take care of my business and you can only imagine getting a piece of this mother fuckers!!!!!!!!!!"
I'm doubting three different people told him about my Latin hair cut, but someone said something and now he's acting like he has something over me. But does he? This sales leader who sips O'Douls with a holier-than-though attitude. Who has the shit on whom? I've learned that until recently this person would get phone numbers from strippers and then upon his return to the city call to take them shopping. Sometimes they'd stand him up, but other times they'd show and he'd take the lovely ladies to dine with surgeons at dinner. Now that's classy, especially when the unsuspecting and ever-dutiful wife waits for him at home expecting their first child.
"What are you talking about?"
"It's all over the company. Don't worry, I'm sure your boss will talk to you about it."
What the F? How does he know? And more importanly, which three people? We were all joking about hygiene at dinner the night before, bordering on over-shares because of one colleague's refusal to filter his communication. Red creeps to my ears and there is less than a minute to pull it together and make it in time to the two-hour breakout session.
Two hours will pass before I can take a deep breath, before I can talk to a friend, before I can verify that I still have a job. Is he fuckin' with me? I vacilate between wanting to hog-tie the three people with whom I joked about waxing and then wanting to tell the cocky one to shove it up his ass.
One moment I'm wrestling with embarrassment that there is an entire coversation among the throngs of employees about my girl parts - will I have to bury myself in a corner, turn the volume down on my laugh and bow my head in shame? The next moment I'm telling myself to hold my head up high, that if someone has an opinion or judgement about me that they can go to hell. "Yeah, I take care of my business and you can only imagine getting a piece of this mother fuckers!!!!!!!!!!"
I'm doubting three different people told him about my Latin hair cut, but someone said something and now he's acting like he has something over me. But does he? This sales leader who sips O'Douls with a holier-than-though attitude. Who has the shit on whom? I've learned that until recently this person would get phone numbers from strippers and then upon his return to the city call to take them shopping. Sometimes they'd stand him up, but other times they'd show and he'd take the lovely ladies to dine with surgeons at dinner. Now that's classy, especially when the unsuspecting and ever-dutiful wife waits for him at home expecting their first child.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Drama at a Glance #2
Mist hangs in the air as another El Nino weather system threatens to remove all traces of last summer's drought. Blech ~ this cruddy weather is great for the lakes but oh how it darkens my mood. My coffee tastes like swill, my hair is flat and fuzzy and my boss is invoking her favorite communication style -- vomiting! The day will come and I will expand on the Drama Queen Guide concept to include DQGuide's to Corporate America.
And on that DQG continuum is DQGuide's to Marriage. I don't know what the seven or nine dramas will be but one question dances around on the edge of consciousness: what am I pretending not to notice about my role in this? I am sad and I turn my thoughts to work to avoid contemplating the depth of it all.
And on that DQG continuum is DQGuide's to Marriage. I don't know what the seven or nine dramas will be but one question dances around on the edge of consciousness: what am I pretending not to notice about my role in this? I am sad and I turn my thoughts to work to avoid contemplating the depth of it all.
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