...but yes, even though Life kept Happening all around me in a big way, I have maintained continuous sobriety for what will be 6 years on this coming May 21. Here's the TL;DR version of the past couple years:
Marriage dead: corpse disposal yet to be determined.
THE WHY
February 16, 2022. A Wednesday. Not yet noon.
I had just come back from my post-op visit [carcinoid tumors of the small intestine] and discovered I didn't need ANY kind of follow-up treatment. Smartest oncologist I know had weighed in and said no need for Octreotide. Let out a huge breath I hadn't even known I'd been holding. Even though I knew it was a daily shot and not what we all think when we hear that word, "no chemo" is still fantastic news. I had shared the "clean bill of health" with my friend group and to both social media platforms. In the six miles from MyHospital home, the praise and kind words and exclamation points were nonstop. LOTS of hearts and flowers emoticons. To quote Billy Joel, "the cowboys and their kin, like the sea came pouring in."
I knew Spouse wouldn't be like -that- because he was too drinksick. I was a little surprised he hadn't managed to even get out of bed to the master-suite doorway for my big return but not very. So (after mentally preparing myself - remember he was here "to help you the way you helped me" [after liver transplant on July 19, 2019 and with broken arm for most of it]) I went upstairs into the bedroom, saw him lying there on the bed, and told him the good news. Weak, polite smile. "Great!"
That was it. No further words on his part about my illness, period. About me at all, actually.
Well.
Lotta stuff to accept right there and I really tried. Thought "he will get back to it when he's feeling better." After all, each kid had found a way to INITIATE conversation via voice or text to say "I'm REALLY glad you don't need chemo." I mean not a Big Deal kind of thing just one clearly deeply felt sentence. Figured he'd do likewise.
Yeah, well.
I asked how he was, got the litany about how his arm hurt his feet hurt and he overdrinks so he feels lousy generally.
But then he said the following:
"In a little bit I'm going to take a shower and I want you to sit and wait right there (gesturing to extra computer chair) so in case I fall or something you can come help me. I mean I can't depend on Eldest"
I stood there, just absorbing that with its command form and lack of please and total assumption of affirmative response plus insult to own favorite child, and he began to do the "...I mean if it's OKAY with you..." crap so I said lightly and with no anger just professional cheer "yes, I'll stay here while you shower just let me know when" and left as quickly as I could. He emerged later with wet hair having NOT asked me after all so perhaps he overheard the exasperated sigh on far side of gently-closed door.
That was it. Right then. Hand still on doorknob.
Done. Out. Nope, no more, doesn't work, doesn't matter. Just DONE. I mentally explored "and what if he _does_ get his shit together and is sober and truly does the work and -properly- repentant?" and decided "not about to kick -anyone- when already down but even THEN I want out. OUT."
I mean.
Way back in the end of January he started carrying on about "coming up there [to the Hinterlands of NY from the Pinelands of NJ] so I can take care of you the way you took care of me" and I started trying to figure out some Serious Diplomacy. However I couldn't come up with a tactful way to SAY "...are you KIDDING me?!? Not no but FUCK no you will be way more harm than good! Help like that I DO NOT need!!!" and since Eldest had her own reasons for wanting to come up, he had willing wheels. "Jokingly" reminded me it was half his house too, so fine whatever. They were coming on Feb 1 the day before my surgery. HIS dog, the 27-lb beagle travels with him which was actually the best part of this whole sorry plan because she and I have a lot to bond over these days and really get along. Silver lining.
Yeah, well.
Sometime more than one but less than five days before arrival, he said "...and you realize of course BoyDog will be coming too."
This is one of his more annyoing conversational tactics: the "you realize [thing he knows damned well you aren't gonna like but CAN'T 'realize' because you haven't -heard- it yet]" method. It is one of many employed to deny choice. Anyhow, BoyDog is a teenie-weenie-beagle-inie. Twelve pounds, cute as a button, sweet and smart and runs cat software half the time. He's also an intact male who marks everything in sight because Divine was right "always the little ones got somethin' to prove." I had been quite explicit in my specific desire he stay _In_The_Pinelands_ for my post-operative state, multiple times...and yet he had urinated on my bed the night before I went in for surgery. Fancy that.
Sometime more than three but less than six days after my surgery he asked me to drive him to the liquor store. (I wasn't on narcotics so I did.) By the one-week mark - POD #8 - he was ServePro about my gastric neuroendocrine carcinoma diagnosis: as if it never happened.
Well.
As mentioned, I don't further hurt already-sick people so now that he's the FUCK back in the NJ house I'm not doing anything in particular any time soon other than taking off my ring. He had for a while after a "beyond repair?/I don't know" discussion on 2/17 tapered down to just a pint plus two or three minis (everyone else in the world calls them "shooters") but I hear that's gone by the wayside, at least temporarily. I also don't particularly WANT to cough up a 5k retainer or make him go on MedicAid either so I'm hoping that instead of "legal divorce" we can have "sensible arrangement." And I did promise to do a travel thing I said I'd honor regardless, although I'm secretly hoping he won't hold me to it.
But it's over, baby. Whether HE knows it or not.
THE HOW
Okay. Summer of 1986. The Challenger and Chernobyl still big in everyone's brains. Oprah Winfrey had JUST shifted from Chicago to national, Phantom of the Opera debuted as a musical, Mir (the one that crashed but 9/11 blew its doors off) launched and I had seen Halley's Comet.
I had also in a surprising burst of independence, switched majors from microbiology to psychology and was taking second summer session second-semester psych to catch up. Because I HAD to be on the IUPUI campus for second semester and you paid by the whole summer (even then, price-gouging) I took a drafting class [CAD/CAM was brand new people mostly DREW blueprints] and had scored a job DOING it so I had money. Drafting paid 3x per hour more than any job I'd had to that point and it was inside, sitting down in air conditioning. Color ME hooked on higher education.
I also had That Fucking Guy starting up the letters again (no, not email, actual pen/paper/envelope/stamp) writing all witty and nominally sorry and such. He was definitely the most interesting guy in my life even if he HAD shit all over me twice for Thanksgiving, second time worse. Also, despite climbing hard almost every day for two solid years, I still had below-zero self-esteem. So instead of "you asshole" I thought "hm." I was already looking toward pairbonding and knew the one thing I would NOT be able to handle was "bored." Yes, you may laugh freely now.
Anyhow because of the HUGE "interesting" factor outweighing all others, he moved higher in the (really dismal) ranks. But I knew (not in these words of course; language has improved) that he was presenting me a hugely curated version of himself. Ferpitysake I hadn't even met his parents and the guy whom I blew to avoid being date-raped had taken me to his grandmother's house months prior. I knew a chunk of that nice summer job had to go toward plane tickets so I could see TFGuy in his Native Habitat before deciding if I really DID want one.
I also knew that my mother would Have A FIT over that so in another surprising burst of independence I maneuvered around her. First, I secured a ride to/from airport with my four-years younger BFF at the time. Back then, you bought airline tickets either from a travel agent or at the airport or the airline mailed them to your home address in advance. WAY advance. Travel agents took a cut big enough to rent office space, so I secured a second ride right away to/from same airport for tickets. On way home from airport I had BFF drive me to my mother's place of employment for a surprise visit. I'd done that once in a while over the years infrequently and it was always well-received. Told her there and got out fast. By the time she got home some 5-6 hours later she'd calmed down enough we could be polite about "...well you're marrying Princess Lucky so you better get used to it" despite how much she wanted to effing sing at me. Evening ended with her asking me if she could, possibly, drive me to the airport instead of BFF. Please. She would really like to. Yeah, fine I let her; I didn't really wanna pay for another round of gas money ($0.89/gal, btw.)
"Skip a bit, Father"
So. Brick apartment complex, concrete flooring, first-floor doorway. Door opens inward to my left, hinges on my right. Standing within and then aside to let us pass is RoomMate. Let me now describe to the best of my ability and memory. My eyes downcast, I saw bottom of a dirty white door expanding onto filthy tan shag carpeting and feet.
Feet in shiny black boots with a heel and zippers up the sides I haven't seen those since my father got divorced wow I didn't know anyone even still wore them. Tucked under hem of black polyester doubleknit pants like male teachers and office workers wear shit that's dressy am I gonna be okay here probably I am because he's wearing a long sleeved crew neck black T-shirt knit pullover (no chest pocket) and that's when I see oval face long gold hair to his shoulders exact same style as mine but damn his is way thicker. When I was busy falling in love with him I said Cary Elwes but I saw a picture of the young David Gilmour in Rolling Stone well before movie and it was a far better fit. First time I saw cover of Excitable Boy (Warren Zevon) I about dropped the glass I was holding; did rattle the ice. [Just looked at that cover again and the double-take still holds scary-well; NOT gonna play title track.] Wide-mouthed smile like Tim Curry but not showing any teeth whatsoever THAT I can get behind..."Hello."
First thing he says after "here she is" from my driver is an apology for TFGuy not being there with genuine disgust/scorn/negativeanyhow that he wasn't. I respond "Hey, I freely admit I invited myself out here so I deserve whatever I get." Would like to say between previous "I" and "invited" I added "committed a big social faux pas and" because I know I did OFTEN when retelling but I might've embellished it in afterwards. Yes, a world in which I told stories, fancy that. He clearly thought that was still no excuse or validation for TFGuy's behavior. Interesting at the time; never even considered that perspective. File THAT away to ponder. Anyway the second thing very close on heels of first is "please don't touch that light switch; it's keeping that computer running." I glance down, see a TRS80 model 4 exactly like the one my mother's first good boss sent home with each of his employees to learn how to use at night so they could use the one he'd just had installed in the office. She was second after his Number One; I thought that was cool beans at the time and meant she rated. As I'm writing today I'm wondering if maybe he knew her smart bored kid would like it too. RIP Harvey. Anyway.
In response to my curious look, he said "It's running a program to see how long it will take monkeys to write Shakespeare."
He couldn't have had me at "hello," but after "eare" it was definitely up for grabs.
And that is how we met.
