I Was An Emotional Prostitute Pt. 15

            As I look back on my dating life, I see that I’ve dated more than I realized, until now. The stories I will tell in this chapter are all true. It still amazes me sometimes to realize just how inconsiderate and/or plain hurtful men can be. I’ve already covered some of the relationships with men that had the most impact on me, so I intend this to be a list of the ones who had an effect on me, but were not major players in my dating life.

            Every girl has a first boyfriend of course and mine was Billy. We were in first grade together and I thought he was totally cute. Nothing ever came of it, but I do have some fond memories of him.

There were some men, or should I say boys, who wanted me to do things for them but I refused.

            First was Russ.  I had a huge crush on him, so when he invited me over to his place, I eagerly went. When I got there, he took me into a travel trailer and we laid next to each other on a bed in it. He then tried to convince me to take my shirt off. I didn’t want to and told him so. When he asked why, I told him it was a body shirt, which had snaps in the bottom and I didn’t want to deal with those. He persisted and I kept saying “no.”

            What really clinched it was when something liquid dripped down between us from a space in the cubby above us. He told me he had mice or something up there, which occasionally spilled their water or some such excuse. However, shortly after that another boy from the neighborhood popped out of a small closet because he could no longer stay in there. He explained that my brother Mike was hiding in the space above where Russ and I had been. I was angry and embarrassed.

            Another fellow, Kelly wanted me to help him test his new waterbed. I refused. I told him I was trying not to engage in that kind of behavior anymore. When he persisted in asking, I slammed the phone down in his ear and refused to talk to him after that.

            Probably the subtlest, was Kevin. He invited me over for dinner, even made Cornish game hen, which I’d never had with butterscotch pudding for desert. After dinner, Kevin begged me to have sex with him. I refused and kept on refusing until he realized I meant it. Once he realized that, he gave up then said he’d take me home. He took me out to the bus stop, as he didn’t have a car, then decided he’d rather go visit his father than see me safely home, even though it was dark out

            I met a couple of the men I dated through Howie, whom I mentioned previously. One was Alex. He was cute. Blonde hair, blue eyes, just my type, or so I thought. Like a lot of the other men I went out with, all he wanted was my body. He convinced me to skip school one day so we could hang out. I wished later that I’d said, “no,” so I was hoping he wouldn’t be at my bus stop. He was there on his motorcycle when I walked up, so I got on it and went with him. All we did was hang out his house and have sex.

            Then there was Russell. He had red hair and blue eyes. Things seemed fine between us until I came back from visiting family in Idaho. He told me he’d joined the Marines. I was really surprised. Once he left for the Marines, our relationship fell apart. I met him again at work several years later. He’d been hired as a delivery driver at the Domino’s pizza I already worked for. I remember looking at him and thinking I was glad our relationship had fallen apart. He wasn’t the kind of man I needed.

            I met Dane in high school, riding the bus. We dated and had a good time. We shared a locker while dating. One day when I went to exchange books for my classes I found a note from him hanging in our locker. At first I thought it was a love note. As I went to class with it in my hand, I suddenly got this sense that something was wrong and I was about to be hurt. I tried to ignore it, but couldn’t.

As soon as I got to my desk, I opened the note. I couldn’t believe my eyes at first. It was his way of calling off the relationship as his old girlfriend had started talking about getting back together. When I confronted him with why he hadn’t told me in person, he said it was because he didn’t know when he would see me again. Given that we saw each other almost daily on the bus going to and from school that was the most cowardly excuse I have ever heard.

            To make matters worse, I ran into his girlfriend, Linda in the hallway one day. As we walked, we started talking about Dane. I told Linda how I felt about her disrupting my relationship with him only to learn he’d never even told her we were a couple! She told me she would chew him out for it. I’m sure she did.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 14

The year of my divorce was the worst year of my life. In March of that year, my favorite cat, Spunky, had to be put down as he’d developed pleurisy. I couldn’t stand to have him lose all his dignity before he died. I’d watched that happen to another pet, so the thought of allowing that to happen to my wonderful kitty was more than I could stand.

In August, my youngest brother, Wayne died of a seizure related to a head injury he’d suffered about 9 years earlier.

I’ll never forget that night. He called me that evening and wanted to come spend the night with Pat and me. I told him it wasn’t possible as I couldn’t leave him alone at the apartment the next day and I didn’t have a way to make sure he got home safely in the morning. Instead I offered to let him spend the weekend after his birthday with me as my husband would be gone hunting with his best friend Scott. Before we got off the phone that night, I told him I was looking forward to seeing him as arranged and that I loved him. That was the last time I ever spoke to him.

Pat and I went to bed around 9 p.m., as we both had to be up early for work. Around 10 the phone beside our bed started clamoring for attention. I was so sound asleep I didn’t realize what the awful noise was. Pat had to reach over me and answer it. When he got off the phone, he told me that it was Don’s wife Donna calling to say Wayne was in the hospital and no one knew if he’d make it. We got up and got dressed. I called my boss and spoke with his wife. I told her what was happening and I didn’t know if I’d make to work the next morning, but I’d call as soon as I knew. On the way to the hospital, I had a feeling this was it for my younger, taller brother. I told the Lord that I didn’t want Wayne to die, but if it were his time, I would let go. He was already dead when we arrived at the hospital. I learned later that he’d actually died before reaching the hospital.

In September, my sister-in-law gave birth to a beautiful little boy. It was extremely difficult to watch her have a baby when I wanted one so badly and my husband kept saying “no, we can’t afford to have children.” Approximately two weeks after the birth of my nephew, my husband and I split up. I think I knew then my marriage was over, even if not legally.

I want to give Pat credit for a couple of things here. First, I had a birthday about a month after our divorce was final. He came to my work that day just to give me a birthday present. He’s even e-mailed me birthday wishes since then, even though I never think about his birthday. His birthday came and went while our divorce was being finalized and I didn’t even think to call him. Secondly, when I talked to him several months later regarding the video collection we had, he told me it wasn’t important to him. He’d already replaced the ones he wanted. He also didn’t seem surprised my mother was the real reason I took some of the videos I did.

In the months following our divorce, I went through a depression so deep, it’s a miracle I didn’t commit suicide because I certainly gave it some serious thought. One of the biggest reasons I didn’t was my nephew. I didn’t want his parents to have to tell him that his aunt had committed such a horrible act. There was also the fact that I didn’t want to cause anyone else in my family any grief over me in such a situation.

Last, but far from least in its own way was the realization that if I killed myself, I would never have children. That it was and is a permanent solution to temporary problems. What I did do was drag myself to and from work and sleep a lot. I’d get home at 3:00 p.m. or so, and be so tired I didn’t want to eat. I’d go sit down in the recliner for “just a few minutes” and wake up several hours later, in time to go to bed. Then I’d sleep the whole night through.

I worked at a laundry mat/dry cleaner at the time and tried to keep my personal problems from showing, but I know they did. Especially when a year or so after the divorce, a woman looked at me and said, “You’re doing better.”

“What do you mean,” I asked. She replied that it was if she had watched me walk through a dark valley and now I was coming out of it. I was really surprised. I thought I’d hidden my depression better than that.

I realize now, that at some level, I knew before we married that he wasn’t the right man for me. However, there were two problems with breaking up with Pat before the wedding. One was that by the time I realized how I felt, I thought it was too late. We had set a date and told our families and friends that we were getting married. Not to mention the planning I’d done and the money I’d spent getting ready.

The second problem with calling off the wedding was my own emotional needs. I wanted and needed a husband so much, I was willing to do virtually anything to be married, even marry the wrong man.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 13

I didn’t expect real change in 30 days. I know better. I think at some level, I was hoping against hope that my letter would be the kick in the ass he needed to start being a better husband. Unfortunately, it was as my friends foretold. We continued with the marital counseling, but now we split the sessions between us. It didn’t make any difference.

There was an incident during this period, which illustrates just how bad our marriage was. During our separation we would get together on weekends to spend time together and hopefully keep our marriage intact. One week we made tentative plans to go to the mountains and play in the snow. Something I love to do. The coat I had was getting worn out and I’d also gained too much weight for it to really fit properly. I had planned to wait till I had cash to buy a new coat, but with the upcoming possibility of a trip to the mountains, I decided to use a store credit card. When I got to the apartment that Friday, Pat told me he liked my coat. Then he told me he’d thought I was going to wait till I had cash before buying a new coat. He said it in such a way as to make me feel like I had done something wrong in buying a coat I really needed. It wasn’t like I’d bought a piece of jewelry or a pair of dress shoes, for goodness sake.

During the evening he told me we wouldn’t be able to go to the mountains the next day so I assumed we’d be spending Saturday together just hanging out or whatever. When I awoke the next morning, I had a really bad headache from grinding my teeth in my sleep. That’s when he chose to tell me he’d made other plans, which didn’t include me. I was welcome to stay and sleep until I felt well enough to leave. That hurt. I felt like he’d kicked me when I was already down.

During our separation, we came to a point where we knew a decision had to be made. I told him that whether or not our marriage was over was up to him. He told me he didn’t want to decide till after the holidays. I said, “Fine.”

I originally planned to wait till after the New Year to ask, but instead, I asked him a couple of days after Christmas. I wanted to know how I would be ringing in the New Year. Would it be as a married woman or a woman on the verge of divorce? That’s when I learned it was officially over between us. I told him he’d have to file and pay for it, as I wanted nothing to do with that. Even though I’d seen it coming and had time to prepare for it emotionally, it still hurt like hell once I got past being numb.

Our divorce was very simple. When we separated, I took what belonged to me, including my bills and left. There were only two bills that we had both signed for, a car loan and a bank loan. I took the car, so I took the payment book with me. I left him the bank loan because when we had borrowed the money, it was intended for a purpose for which it never got used. When I suggested giving it back untouched, he refused.

If I’d wanted to, I probably could have been really nasty during our divorce. Given that I’d supported Pat while he went to college, I probably could have sued him for that. However, all I really wanted was to get out and be done with it. I didn’t care about fighting him over money anymore. Besides, I’m not sure he would have ever paid.

I realize now that when he married me, he got a woman to have monogamous sex with and someone to do his laundry, cook his meals, and wash the dishes. Me? I got shafted. I did the best I knew how to be a good wife and got nothing in return.

A few years after our divorce a friend of his brought me some film from our marriage, which he was supposed to have had developed and hadn’t. I looked at it and said, “One more promise he didn’t keep.” He never paid me for having the developing done either.

The only things I took, which I felt belonged to him, even though they were purchased during our marriage were some Disney videos. When my mother helped me pack up the last of my belongings, she insisted we take them. I tried to tell her, “no” but she would not listen and I was so drained emotionally, I didn’t have the strength to fight her.

She also opened up the front closet and looked in the boxes in there despite my telling her to stay out of there. The reason I didn’t want her getting into the closet was that we had put some pornographic magazines in there. I wasn’t real happy with her for that but did not have the strength to chew her out or to tell her the truth. You see, I told her that they were Pat’s magazines and basically implied that I hadn’t read them, even though I had. I realize now, that at least for me, reading those was a vicarious way of seeking the love and sexual satisfaction I craved, but was not getting in my marriage.

When he married me, he got a woman to have monogamous sex with and someone to do his laundry, cook his meals, and wash the dishes. Me? I got shafted. I did the best I knew how to be a good wife and got nothing in return.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 12

However, there was another way in which my now ex in-laws hurt me. I don’t think any of them ever realized it. One year for Christmas I decided to make cookies as that was cheaper than buying gifts and I thought they’d all appreciate some homemade goodies. Then I decided to buy some little things to go with the cookies. I stayed up really late Christmas Eve packaging the cookies into individual baskets for everyone. The next day we got raves for the store bought gifts, but not one fucking word about the cookies I’d worked so hard to make for everyone. I decided then and there to never, ever bake for them again. The only person who said anything was his Aunt Donna and she loved them so much she wanted a recipe for one of them. I always meant to get it to her, but never got around to it, which I do regret.

I see now there were other signs he didn’t care about me. There was the matter of pocket change. I once told him that I needed his quarters for laundry money. He told me he needed them for parking while doing things for his company. I remember thinking that his work should provide him money for parking while on the job and besides he had nickels and dimes too.

I know now he was buying coffee and lunch with the change, while I took lunch to work. How do I know this? I made him a lunch on a couple of different occasions, which he didn’t eat. Later the food got so moldy he threw it away, Tupperware container and all. He told me the food got so moldy, I wouldn’t have wanted the container back. The first time it happened, I told him to bring me the container and let me try anyway. Of course, he didn’t care enough about me to respect my property or me for that matter. The next time it happened, he just threw away my container again.

Another thing he did was to leave the driver’s seat pulled forward in our car, even when he knew I would be driving it after him. Pat was shorter than I am and he needed the seat pulled forward. I repeatedly asked him to put it all the way back when he knew I’d be driving it after him, but he never did. I don’t know how many times I banged my hip on the steering wheel getting into the car after him. That hurt!

Within three years, our marriage was so bad, I suggested we try marriage counseling. The first time I brought it up, his response was, “For who? You or me?”

I told him for both of us. The next time I brought it up, he agreed to it. We found a marriage counselor and went to see her about once a week, but to no avail. The counselor made me feel as if she was on his side because she kept asking why I wanted children and talking about how expensive it was to raise a child. She never in my presence anyway, questioned Pat about his lack of desire for children or the fact that he never made any real effort to make it possible for us to “afford to have children.”

Looking back on this, I realize she was talking about the total lifetime cost of raising a child from birth to adulthood. That’s kind of silly, really. Yes, it can cost hundreds of thousands of dollars or more to raise a child, but those costs don’t hit all at once. They come as the child grows. I mean think about it, babies need diapers, cribs, etc. A toddler/child will need a bed, clothes, toys, etc. Preteens/teenagers need clothes, etc. My point is that although these costs add up, they aren’t paid the moment your child is born. They’re paid overtime as the child grows and the new needs arise. Not all at once, as the counselor implied.

I also realize now that I knew at some level that as I got older my chances of conceiving and carrying a child to term would get smaller and smaller. It’s a natural fact of aging for women that as we get older, our fertility declines. That’s also at least part of the reason I wanted children so badly then, I knew if we waited too long I might not ever get pregnant.

I learned later through another counselor, that for some women, the desire to have children is an inborn need, like breathing. That helped me understand that I simply wanted a child.

By the time we separated, I hated my husband so much; there were days when I wished he would die. If I was a widow I wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. Then I’d feel guilty for feeling that way. Not only that, but we quit talking. He’d ask me what was wrong. I’d say, “I’m just tired,” but I would be thinking, “I’ve told you over and over what I need and want, but you refuse to try and meet my needs. I’m done talking. I’m done doing anything I don’t have to do.”

One day while at work, I decided I’d had enough. Something had to change. I couldn’t live with him the way things were. So, I wrote him a letter. Friends warned me that I was taking a huge chance, but at that point I didn’t care. I wrote that he had 30 days to change or I was leaving.  I couldn’t stand living the way we were. He read the letter, told me he was going out to get his hair cut, but he hoped I’d be there when he got back. The minute he was out the door, I called my mother and told her I was coming to her house. Then I packed a bag with enough to get me through for a few days and left.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 11

My husband Pat, was a little boy emotionally whom I married thinking that he would grow up once he got away from his father’s control. His father had been a Sergeant-major in the army and ran his family the same way. If he said, “jump,” his family asked how high on the way up. His father even decided which branch of the service he would go into. Pat wanted to go into the Coast Guard, but his father didn’t consider that to be “real service” and pushed him into joining the Air Force by having an Air Force recruiter come to their house to meet with him.

I learned a couple of very important lessons there. If you’re going to marry someone, you had better be very sure that you can live with him or her the way he/she is for the rest of your life with no expectation of change. You had also better be very sure that you see eye to eye on all the major issues in marriage, such as money and how it’s handled and having children. Those were the biggest issues in our marriage and the ones that ultimately ended it.

It seemed I could spend money and charge things as long as we could afford the payments. But when it came to paying off the bills and working towards being able to have children, I got no real help from my husband. Every time the subject of having children would come up, he’d say we couldn’t afford to have children. He also told me that he would see about getting a second job to help pay off our bills. He never even looked for a second job, but I tried working two jobs twice. Even when I paid off some of our bills, He’d still tell me we couldn’t afford to have children. Only now, he would get up and walk away after saying it. End of discussion as far as he was concerned. I honestly thought when we married that he wanted children too.

As time went on in our marriage, I began to see this wasn’t true. That as far as he was concerned I was too pushy about the issue and why did I want children so badly anyway? I realize now that he didn’t really want children the way he said he did or he would have made more effort to make it possible. He knew I would not have married him if I’d known he didn’t want children.

During our marriage, I went through a period of months when my monthly cycle simply stopped. I went to my doctor about it and she told me she was going to run a test for early menopause. I happened to tell Pat about the test on the phone. I informed him in no uncertain terms that I was in early menopause, then I was going to jump him and there would be no birth control. I could tell from the way he got quiet for a moment before responding that I’d shocked him and made him uneasy. Looking back on this, I realize now that I dealt the final blow to our marriage then. It continued to stagger along, but it never got back to what it had been, which wasn’t all that good in the first place.

His family wasn’t helpful in matters of having children either. One sister stayed out of it, the other commiserated with me in a weird way. She would say, “I know just how you feel Mayone, I want my little boy back.”

I used to look at her and think, “How dare you claim to know how I feel when you have three beautiful daughters? Wanting something you had is not the same as wanting something you have never had!”

However, there was another way in which my now ex in-laws hurt me. I don’t think any of them ever realized it. One year for Christmas I decided to make cookies as that was cheaper than buying gifts and I thought they’d all appreciate some homemade goodies. Then I decided to buy some little things to go with the cookies. I stayed up really late Christmas Eve packaging the cookies into individual baskets for everyone. The next day we got raves for the store bought gifts, but not one fucking word about the cookies I’d worked so hard to make for everyone. I decided then and there to never, ever bake for them again. The only person who said anything was his Aunt Donna and she loved them so much she wanted a recipe for one of them. I always meant to get it to her, but never got around to it, which I do regret.

I see now there were other signs he didn’t care about me. There was the matter of pocket change. I once told him that I needed his quarters for laundry money. He told me he needed them for parking while doing things for his company. I remember thinking that his work should provide him money for parking while on the job and besides he had nickels and dimes too.

I know now he was buying coffee and lunch with the change, while I took lunch to work. How do I know this? I made him a lunch on a couple of different occasions, which he didn’t eat. Later the food got so moldy he threw it away, Tupperware container and all. He told me the food got so moldy, I wouldn’t have wanted the container back. The first time it happened, I told him to bring me the container and let me try anyway. Of course, he didn’t care enough about me to respect my property or me for that matter.

Another thing he did was to leave the driver’s seat pulled forward in our car, even when he knew I would be driving it after him. Pat was shorter than I am and he needed the seat pulled forward. I repeatedly asked him to put it all the way back when he knew I’d be driving it after him, but he never did. I don’t know how many times I banged my hip on the steering wheel getting into the car after him. That seriously hurt!