There are very few people whom I just cannot tolerate. But there are many who work my nerve to the nth degree. I can intellectualize and rationalize all I want. I can remind myself that my frustration is only harming me, eating at me, chipping away at my cool objectivity until I resemble some seething, writhing mass that I pity.
I have not even met this miserable mass with whom I am ashamed to claim
shared womanhood. But, am I really any better? Why do I put
up with this? Am I a glut for punishment, eating the bitter filth
because it's there and keeps coming on? That's it, swallow and
gulp, fast as you can. Open up and say ahhh! down the hatch, good
My guy was married, but he has been divorced several years now.
His ex instigated the divorce, pushing and pushing for it. Giving
birth to it, through demanding labor. She stormed into the
lawyers office and stirred a flurry of paperwork about, demanding that
my guy go and sign. He did.
Her lawyer took him aside and told him that he was getting royally
screwed. But, my guy just wanted it done, over, had enough.
So he signed, walked away from an amazing amount of goods, agreed to
pay for her health insurance for an absurd amount of time (COBRA, mind
you, even more expensive than a "regular" dependent), washed his
hands...or did he?
She fiddled and farted, frittered and wasted, squandered and pilfered,
and spent the money her father (!) gave her to pay her lawyer's fees
(of which my guy had already paid half). She spent the money on
her habits, truly digging herself deeper and deeper, ending up in
rehab, yet again. Bringing misery to most, but especially those
who allowed it to continue.
Finally, my guy realizes that this will continue indefinitely, he will
also continue to pay her COBRA insurance because the divorce was not
finalized and only then would the time period he agreed to BEGIN.
So he goes to the lawyer, and pays her half of the divorce. The
papers go through the judge's approval that very day and are popped off
in the mail. She receives her copies, calls, crying, screaming,
wailing, carrying on about how she had thought that they would work it
out and get back together. Back together? After a marriage
of absence and abuse and what "together"ness and intimacy was
there? Nothing. Or so I thought. More fool me.
Her meal ticket, get out of jail free card, rescuer with the credit
card and ruined credit was walking. She'd pushed, but she
despaired of his withdrawl. Now, she mourned her loss of a
whipping post. She was beginning to realize she had messed a good
thing. Or had she? Had she really messed a good thing?
Years later, umpteen rehab visits gone by, a few more scrapes with the
law, and her own parents pressing charges. She calls him, writes
him, leaves messages, approaches his friends and family now.
When they were married, she only called upon him to come bail her out
of this latest mess. Taking off for days at a time, no messages,
til the dark wee hours with a collect call from this or that county
jail. Yet he would resign himself, heave a sigh, go get her ass.
Why? He tells me that he thought he deserved that.
Really? I tsk, tsk, there now, you po'babee, how I bleed for
you. But now, I wonder...
She truly puts the con in con-artist. Cunningly manipulative,
seductive in her approach, her methods of sneaking, sliding, slithering
coyingly into his life through his mother. Oddly though, she has
He didn't wash his hands, still willingly soiling them in the greasy
muck of her acquaintance. He didn't walk away. He does
nothing to discourage her, and yet protests that he doesn't see how the
very act of not discouraging her is encouragement.
He allows it to continue, I allow it to continue. This endless
barage of contact that escalates as time passes instead of diminishing
and fading, sour grapes and slinking away.
No, she hasn't messed a good thing. She still has him. Such
a slick grip. Not even physically here, not in the same town, not
in the same county. No, she has a hold all the same. A pull
that he cannot, will not resist. He won't shut himself of her.
He tells me, there is no harm. How does this hurt you? Yes,
it's true that she and my mother hated each other with a passion and
yet now are thick thieves in the guise of Christianly tolerance and
I wonder, am I seeing this clearly? Is it something that I can
bear? Does his vanity feed of her continued attentions and ploys
of affection and supposed caring? When will it end? How
will it end?
It could endwith me. I could end this. I am beginning to
see that he will not see. He will deny that it thrills him.
He will continue deny that it pains me. Perhaps the ending, is
soon, with me driving away. Not washing, not walking, not
staying, not fooling, deluding myself and others.
It could end with me, not allowing it to continue. I cannot
control others actions, but I can my own reactions. What is more,
I can pro-act, and choose to tolerate no more. To leave this
mess. To wipe the woven webs away.