Marriage in Springtime

The smell of fertilizer carelessly blowing my way, damn near choking me to death was indicative of the kind of day it was going to be. I was walking up Perry Street on my way to the courthouse. I’d been struggling with my marriage for months which is pretty sad since I had only been married for a year and a couple of months.

I had asked him that day what was to come of this “holy matrimony.” He said he didn’t know. Another lie. He didn’t care. We separated two months after our first anniversary. I’m surprised we even made it that far since he emotionally (and sexually) left the marriage three months after our wedding. “Trial and error” he called it. It makes me wonder why the simple bastard proposed in the first place.

Was he Linus and I the blanket which he dragged around carelessly while sucking his thumb claiming to be something and someone he wasn’t? Why was it that three months into our marriage he was laid up with a ninety pound, cocaine addicted, alcoholic, high school dropout? Why wasn’t I given the opportunity in wedlock that others had on the outside?

“Linus” obviously saw security in me. I’m a sista with a lot to offer. Aside from my love which is immeasurable, I’m a 13-year veteran of broadcasting (of which I am still reaping the benefits), I enjoy a fulfilling career as an educator and professional vocalist, I’m physically fit and at 37 I still turn a few heads so I can’t look that bad. Some would say I have it going on and I have learned that my success was the problem.

I used to blame myself for this disaster but now I realize and accept that I did my best. What pisses me off the most is the time and money I wasted with this cat. Yes, I mentioned money because there was a great deal of it that was pretty much burned in effigy if you know what I mean. Travel, gowns, rings, and that was before the ceremony. Call me shallow if you wish but had I known I would have to spend thousands of dollars afterward to baby-sit what would be my husband, of course I would have never walked down the aisle. Yet I have to admit I looked damn good in
that dress.

People the next time any man tells me that I “can do better” or he is “not worthy of my love” I’m going to assume he knows more than I do and run like hell. I would advise the same.

Looking back, they say hindsight is always 20/20, I admit to ignoring many red flags that were shaking their asses in my face. I also accept that I settled for less than what I deserve. I believed there was good in him and was ready to become the superhero who would capitalize on that and reap the rewards. The best reward I gave myself was getting out. Looking forward, I concur that no one can help a person who refuses to help himself. To feel so inferior to a woman who loves you as you are (flaws and all), and to attempt to justify the worst possible act of betrayal in order to feel superior is an act which will always confuse me. He hand picked at the bottom of the barrel in an attempt to feel worthy when all he had to do was come home.

On that day as I inhaled the foul stench of spring, I realized it was comparable to my marriage. Pure…uncut…bullshit.