The next morning and I’m scared and shaking. My wife is in the process of getting her first four-year degree. She has two semesters left. I feel like she is getting her degree to make more money prior to dropping the hammer on my head. I feel like this everyday. It is definitely not a nice place to be. Still sometimes, you have to hit rock bottom in your relationships before things get better. Sometimes you have to experience the worst possible feelings regardless of the outcome, before you can understand the reasons behind their reasoning. I wanted to go there, and I feel like we are there.
Over the course of several weeks, our relationship has taken a huge roller coaster ride. I felt, like many of you have already predicted, that she was having an affair. But she would not offer anything except, “I don’t know.” We both decided that we needed to go to church; at the suggestion of her mother. Summer was brought up with strict religious beliefs. At the age of sixteen she decided religion was to be put on the back burner and married her first husband. Soon after she had her first child who is now twelve years old. So off to church we go. We sat through a very liberal service, singing songs and bowing our heads to every praise of the Lord. Well you get the picture. While praying, I couldn’t help feeling what lies we were living. Here we are talking about divorce and learning about Summer’s deepest sexual needs. And we were praying. Lie, pray. Lie, pray. And lie. Religion was not the answer to our problems. Don’t get me wrong, every prayer helps. But I didn’t want to rely on some lightening bolt from the sky to help a marriage that was melting away by the day and taking two beautiful children down with it.
I hope your staying with me because the story is about to heat up. Two Saturdays ago, Summer gets up early and is working on some homework, on the computer. I walk out with my sleepy head on looking for the first cup of Jo, so I can wake up from my two hours of drug enhanced sleep and be prepared for the hammer to drop on my head. She smiles at me and says she has a surprise for me. She tells me she is going to the Christian bookstore to buy me a bible and than to Fredericks of Hollywood for a surprise. So here I am ready for another discussion about her “power of leave” (divorce) but I’m now standing in our kitchen feeling like a priest with a huge hard-on. Actually for a moment she actually had me convinced she did not want a divorce and maybe we still had a chance. So, I policed my hard-on, kissed her goodbye, and off she went.
After thirty minutes I knew something was not right. So, as stealthy as Barney Fife I follow her path. My gut feeling was that she was at her place of work grinding some guy on top of the bible she just bought me. I was not going to let this happen, at least until I read the whole thing from front to back. Low and behold, there is her car right where I thought it would be. My heart sank like the titanic, because all we were doing thus far in our nightly discussions was moving the chairs around the deck of it. I pulled over and knew that I had to hear the lies first before doing anything else. So I called her. No answer. I called her again after five minutes … no answer. And I waited. After about fifteen minutes I see her running into the garage and leaving in a hurry. So I called her again. This time she picks up. “Where are you honey,” I say to her. “Oh, I just left the Christian book store,” she lies. “I’m now walking into Fredrick’s,” she lies again. I waited for a few seconds then say, “Your lying to me, I just saw you pulling out of the parking garage at work.” There was no answer. No words. I didn’t even hear her breath.
She was busted! Demoted to a pile of monkey shit! Downgraded to the level of a stinky, nasty, smelly whore that lived under an overpass. Something about busting someone that leaves you feeling one of two ways. In one way you’re relieved, like having to take a piss you’ve been holding for two hours after drinking ten cups of coffee. It’s was the best feeling in the world that I finally knew what was going down, or better said, that she was going down on somebody. On the other hand, I was devastated. My beautiful wife, along with the prettiest smile, and absolutely wonderful personality was now the proud owner of a community crotch. It was over, I felt. And there was nothing I could do about it, except grab the money, and our kids, and get the hell away from the bitch.
What happened next will really want you to toss your cookies, but I have to run for today. I will write some more … I promise.