What is it about the human condition that is so desperate for companionship, yet struggles so hard to be happy with the companions we find? This is an issue that continues to fascinate me, especially now as I have been through one divorce and am potentially preparing to go through a second.
My first husband and I dated for years before we got married. We were inseparable. Not hardly a day went by that we weren’t together; it seemed we were perfectly compatible. Sure, we had our differences, but they worked well in our relationship. And yet… by the time the wedding was upon us, I knew in my heart we would not last. I remember telling a close friend at my bachelorette party that I already knew we would end in divorce. But at that point, I felt there was no turning back… so I went through with it and tried to convince myself that that’s what adult people did.
Almost immediately after the wedding, my husband was called away to active duty during Desert Storm. Not to the actual war, mind you; he was a reservist who went to support the base in Okinawa while the active soldiers went to war. For 10 months he went to classes, participated in some basic training, played volleyball, hung out on the beach and drank beer, all the while complaining how hard life was. And even managed to get himself demoted for playing hookey from his classes for a week.
He came back feeling like the world owed him a debt of gratitude for his ‘brave service’, didn’t want to go back to work immediately, spent a few months picking and choosing through jobs that weren’t good enough for him while eating through the savings I had put away while he was gone. All this with a baby on the way. In simple terms, he refused to grow up and take responsibility for the family he created.
Four months after our daughter came, I asked him to leave. I couldn’t take any more. He made it very clear he was no longer interested in me, and wanted little to do with the baby. The baby he wanted so much the minute he came home. He immediately moved back in with his mother, and you know what? Sixteen years later, there he STILL IS. Reading his comic books and playing with his yo-yos in his mom’s basement. Forty-one years old.
Three years later, I met my second husband. I was independent, making my way very well as a single mom, and a good one, despite the fact that husband #1 barely ever came up with child support of any kind, and because of his limited employment, what he was expected to pay was a mere pittance. I had a good apartment, and I was managing my life. I was proud of what I had accomplished on my own.
When I met my second husband, I wasn’t looking to get involved; in fact I had given up on the dating scene and was disgusted with it, tired of being hurt. The only reason I went out with him at all was because he had already signed up to join the Army and was heading out in just over a month. Automatic goodbye, thank you very much, see ya. Perfect. Have some fun, go away, no hard feelings. To tell you the truth, I didn’t even like him when we first met. I thought he was egotistical and overinflated.
But then we got to know each other, and wouldn’t you know it, we fell in love, even though we promised each other we wouldn’t do that. So we dated for a month, he left. I got to fly out to Kentucky to see his graduation training, and the next time I saw him was the day before we got married. Nobody thought we had a snowball’s chance in Hell. He got stationed in Texas; I packed up and moved everything, left my job. Battled through a vicious custody fight (not with my ex, really, but with his MOTHER) and finally we were free to start our life together. And for the first few years, it was really excellent. We were two peas in a pod. We gardened, we camped, we fished. We were happy just being together, the three of us. Two years down the line, our son came along, and what joy that brought to us. Unfortunately, soon after tragedy struck as my daughter suffered a stroke when my husband was away on maneuvers in Korea. We were devastated; she was only 5. But we banded together and helped her with her therapy, and she recovered better than the doctors ever predicted.
The time came for my husband to leave the military, and we both decided it would be best to come back home, so our daughter could be close to family.
It was probably the worst mistake we ever made.
Where do I start? Immediately my ex started demanding equal time with my daughter, and not wanting to keep her from him, I agreed. BIG mistake. He and his mother set out to undo all the self sufficiency we had taught her, they coddled and waited on her and convinced her she should never have to do anything for herself. What a disappointment.
My husband took the first job he could get, bad pay and too much travel, and once again we found we had a baby on the way. Being a mom of a special needs kid and a toddler and an infant with no husband around to help several nights a week is so exhausting when you are working a full time job yourself; you can find yourself getting a little ticked off.
Move forward a few years: the kids are a little older and more self-sufficient which is good, my husband has taken a better job which is good. But still he travels all the time; and even when he is home, he is too tired to be a husband or a father. We have managed to buy a home, and it is falling apart. I am tired of feeling like I am nagging all the time, but I can’t fix the roof, I can’t reattach the sagging rain gutters, I can’t reprogram the sprinkler system, I don’t know how to do those things. My house is becoming an embarrassment. My fence is falling down. My backyard looks like a white trash paradise. And all he does is…. Sleep. If we ever spend time together, it’s because I make it happen, he could care less.
This year was the final straw. Our kids went to southern Utah to spend several weeks with their grandparents. I thought, ‘this is our chance to reconnect, to spend some US time.’
He had to go on an international business trip, and the minute he got home, he stated, ‘We have to go get the kids NOW. I need them with me NOW. THIS WEEKEND.’ Sure, I was disappointed, but I wanted to understand… so we went and got the kids early… they were sad, I was sad.
When we got home, you know what he did? He took the whole next week off… to spend with THE KIDS.
I moved out a month later.
