Maybe I'm dense, but I'm just not getting it. This will be long, because I aim to be thorough, so thanks in advance to anyone who sticks to this massive text, offers advice, or asks any questions. I will be more than willing to answer everything as impartially as possible for the sake of getting to the bottom of it.
I've just never had an easy relationship with my wife. We started off going on a date, which went extremely well, and then it was minimal contact for the following weeks. During those weeks, I was surprised to find out that she was seeing someone else, and I swallowed my pride and let it be. Some time shortly after, an opportunity came up at my company, and I relayed that to her since I thought she'd be a good fit, and she wasn't happy at her job then. That's when she came into my life, though I knew exactly why that was. Eventually we'd grow closer, she'd stop seeing the other guy, all the meanwhile that position was filled by someone else. We'd become a relationship after a few months of dating.
The most vital piece of background information on her is that she was previously in a long term relationship that ended badly. After 6 or 7 years of being with her fiance, he leaves her for another woman almost a year to the date in which they were set to be married. This had a huge impact on her, and despite briefly dating someone in between the ex and I, she still couldn't come to terms with how the relationship ended even as our relationship started, and for the first few months afterward.
One problem that we had early on, was one of her friends that would be very troublesome for us. I'm not perfect by any means, but I am responsible and educated, something this friend had a problem with, since my wife is not. She'd always bend her ear as to why dating someone like me was a high risk/high reward kind of thing, without even knowing me. I always felt like the basis of their friendship was getting drunk and talking about her ex, though I never really outright expressed my annoyance about this friend outright. The friend situation would eventually come to a head twice, once when I grew sick of her feeding my wife intel on her exes EVERY move, and secondly when she managed to actually get to her head enough one weekend and managed to break us up.
That weekend we were broken up would prove vital, because after years and years of dating, break up space was something that I always sucked at, and I really wanted to make it work this time. Space was what I gave. When we'd speak again, she revealed that she had been with someone that past weekend. Naturally, I was crushed, and it took a lot for me to come to terms with that since I've never been in that situation before. After that incident, however, the relationship became a little more distant.
Some time later, we'd experience what was probably one of the better times, in that we were practically inseparable. We'd date, go out, do fun things, the holidays were fun, and it actually seemed like we were really in love. One day, she gets pregnant, and it was officially time to panic. A little about me, I grew up in a single income household where my siblings and I were given everything. I wouldn't exactly call it being spoiled, because we didn't get it all at once, but we had everything it took to be just like everyone in middle class suburbia. It came at a sacrifice that we were well aware of, in that my dad had to travel the entire world, hard at work, just to make sure that we had the best possible upbringing we could possibly have. As a man now, I couldn't have asked for a better role model in that regard, nor could I come up with an excuse to deliver anything less than what I had. She initially decided to keep it, and I scrambled around trying to find a new contrac t through my job which would supply me with a complete, secondary income. I got it.
This is about the time in which I should disclose that she has (to this present day), a drinking problem. And the drinking never stopped. "One more day" became a few weeks before I knew it, and since we weren't living together, I wouldn't be surprised if I found out that she drank every single day while she was pregnant. A hasty, crazy decision at work quickly turned into an mistake since I was now committed to this new contract, and to make matters worse, we had to make a decision about this pregnancy. The decision she made was to go ahead and terminate the pregnancy, and for the life of me, I think I took that entire episode worse than she did. It was pathetic. We were the oldest people at the clinic. I'm pretty sure we were the only ones with jobs. She was the only white woman there. I've never felt so self-aware, so out of place, so ashamed in my entire life.
I decided not to let it end us, partly because I felt no different being the person that forked over the cash for it, than being the person sitting down on the chair getting the procedure done. Surely, this would be a harsh lesson on the effects of her drinking habit. The doctor would make a prescription, and would not allow intercourse for another 6 weeks. I respected the latter, but I swear, this entire episode would alter the relationship forever.
Beyond that, it was back to being a little distant, yet there was still effort on her behalf for the following months. We still weren't living together, but I was traveling for work, though I can't complain about her commitment to me while I was away. It was miserable being away from home, but she'd call, we'd video chat, and it was very comfortable being with her during those long stints out of town. Upon coming back after a few projects, we got engaged. However, after that, sometimes I'd be back, not knowing how long I'd be in town for, and she wouldn't receive me on that first night. We'd eventually spend time together, if only for a few hours, but there'd never be any intimacy, or even a moment alone to just spend the rest of our time together. I mean, I've traveled before, and my exes couldn't wait to see me again. It was almost addicting, being gone, and then having the time of my life once I'd get back. That thrill was gone with this one.
We'd eventually get married legally, while I was under contract, and even then that day felt weirdly disconnected. We came home, and it was like it was some random Tuesday that we'd have gotten into a fight from the Monday before. We didn't even have a romantic night that night or anything. From that point on, it was distance, distance, and even more distance, along with more and more drinking. I put the drinking on her job, since she seemed to be overly stressed with it, to the point where she'd talk in her sleep about how unhappy she was at work. I told her that she had the option of quitting, I'd absorb her financially, if that would reduce how much she was drinking. It didn't work, in fact, her quitting her job only let her start drinking from earlier in the day. Still, no intimacy.
Intimacy, since I've now mentioned it a bunch. I swear. In the past almost year that we've been married, it's been like 8 times total. If that. I've been with all sorts of different people over my entire life, and this is the only time that it's ever been this way with anyone before. If it happens, I can expect a 3 week moratorium while she "heals" because I apparently hurt her. Otherwise, the timing has to be just right. I'm not allowed to ask. If I do, the responses range from "Is that what you want?" to "I'm tired" to "Fine, just take what's yours". I especially don't like the rapey vibe of that last one, so there's never going to be a scenario in which I redeem that voucher.
I haven't been a saint, either. As a result of all of this frustration, I've become distant. I don't involve myself anymore. I've become verbally abusive. I'll tell her that I'm tired of feeling like I'm in 2nd place in every regard to her life. I wasn't her first choice. Our relationship always seems like it will never reach the importance to her previous relationship in her eyes. I don't get any respect whatsoever, since I'm on married man mode, and she's still trying to act like a local party girl. I've flat out asked her what that one guy had that I didn't, aside for the nerve to take advantage of a woman that gets blacked out drunk like she gets. Things like that. It hurts to say, it hurts to compare, but it's gotten to the point where all I do is single-handily support this household and not even get a wife, not a friend, not even a roommate I can stand out of it. I'm just living with someone, wondering night after night as to what else is out there.
2015 has been a terrible year. It started off with my truck (with my wallet inside) being stolen. Money was spent from that wallet before I ever even realized the truck was stolen. The apartment complex we live at was willing to play ball to our predicament, so agreed not to evict us (they're quick about it here), provided that we pay the late fees on top of rent that we would accrue. On due date, we were given an inconvenient time of 2pm on a weekday to pay up, something I wasn't able to do because I was at work. I called her in regards to paying these people, and she was entirely unhelpful and borderline apathetic. I've always been on time with rent, and we couldn't afford to have an eviction on our records. I've never been evicted before, so I didn't know if I was going to come "home" to my belongings outside, or if we'd be locked out of our own home. I seriously could've threatened to blow up her car, and she wouldn't have budged. It was 1:30pm. How do I get her to move? Her dogs. I told her that if she didn't meet me for the rent money, that I'd make it my life's mission to set her dogs free in Arkansas (we live in Houston).
That turned out being my second biggest mistake since getting married. After getting home and having an otherwise decent day with her now that the rent had been paid, I used the computer for several hours until I decided to have a cigarette. I noticed that her and the dogs were gone, and I began to panic. I swear, I couldn't rule out that she took a dog for a walk, got assaulted, and begged her kidnapper to allow her to get the second dog so that they could all die together. She's that crazy about her pets. The front door was unlocked, and there was a spilled drink on the ground. I call the police, because all of her stuff was still at home, and I couldn't rule anything out. After they went looking for her, they told me that she left the house because she feared for the safety of her dogs. Like I said earlier, we live in Houston, but I don't even hunt lol. But she took that pinch of an excuse to go to her parents house and stay there for the weekend.
So here we are now, and she's cooked up a solution with her parents that it's marriage counseling or bust. That I need to compromise. Her complaints are my distance, the arguing, and everything that is purely a product of the fact that what was once a screw up on her behalf, has become a chapter that is bold, highlighted, underlined, and italicized because she won't touch me. Her defense is that she won't do so because I'm mean and distant, yet I didn't become that way until she stopped being intimate with me. Of course, I'd be willing to bet that her parents don't know half her indiscretions to her side of the story (there are more, like her blowing up her exes phone one night and his fiancee called me, or like her ex boyfriend soliciting her for sex on FB), but they must be extremely blind to who she is because of the fact that they're not even aware that she has a drinking problem.
Our problems are many, but I feel like everything she has to complain about me is a reaction to something about her. Her drinking, she will get BLACK OUT DRUNK, yet she expects me to be ok with her going out in public to drink. She expects me to be OK with her friends, yet they've shown nothing but disrespect toward me during our relationship. If they're not breaking us up, they're soliciting her for sex, getting her drunk before sundown, or literally asking her to be there date for events, like I run a wife for rent service. She expects me to wait for sex, not demand. I have to wait for the unicorn to hop the aurora borealis at 11:11pm on the 29th of February, at which we'll be notified via messenger pigeon for the OK for her to get frisky with me, otherwise, tough luck.
So here I am, at my parents house, thinking about playing Mario Kart on the SNES after I finish typing this up, realizing that I am now further away from work for tomorrow morning. I really do hate my life.
I've just never had an easy relationship with my wife. We started off going on a date, which went extremely well, and then it was minimal contact for the following weeks. During those weeks, I was surprised to find out that she was seeing someone else, and I swallowed my pride and let it be. Some time shortly after, an opportunity came up at my company, and I relayed that to her since I thought she'd be a good fit, and she wasn't happy at her job then. That's when she came into my life, though I knew exactly why that was. Eventually we'd grow closer, she'd stop seeing the other guy, all the meanwhile that position was filled by someone else. We'd become a relationship after a few months of dating.
The most vital piece of background information on her is that she was previously in a long term relationship that ended badly. After 6 or 7 years of being with her fiance, he leaves her for another woman almost a year to the date in which they were set to be married. This had a huge impact on her, and despite briefly dating someone in between the ex and I, she still couldn't come to terms with how the relationship ended even as our relationship started, and for the first few months afterward.
One problem that we had early on, was one of her friends that would be very troublesome for us. I'm not perfect by any means, but I am responsible and educated, something this friend had a problem with, since my wife is not. She'd always bend her ear as to why dating someone like me was a high risk/high reward kind of thing, without even knowing me. I always felt like the basis of their friendship was getting drunk and talking about her ex, though I never really outright expressed my annoyance about this friend outright. The friend situation would eventually come to a head twice, once when I grew sick of her feeding my wife intel on her exes EVERY move, and secondly when she managed to actually get to her head enough one weekend and managed to break us up.
That weekend we were broken up would prove vital, because after years and years of dating, break up space was something that I always sucked at, and I really wanted to make it work this time. Space was what I gave. When we'd speak again, she revealed that she had been with someone that past weekend. Naturally, I was crushed, and it took a lot for me to come to terms with that since I've never been in that situation before. After that incident, however, the relationship became a little more distant.
Some time later, we'd experience what was probably one of the better times, in that we were practically inseparable. We'd date, go out, do fun things, the holidays were fun, and it actually seemed like we were really in love. One day, she gets pregnant, and it was officially time to panic. A little about me, I grew up in a single income household where my siblings and I were given everything. I wouldn't exactly call it being spoiled, because we didn't get it all at once, but we had everything it took to be just like everyone in middle class suburbia. It came at a sacrifice that we were well aware of, in that my dad had to travel the entire world, hard at work, just to make sure that we had the best possible upbringing we could possibly have. As a man now, I couldn't have asked for a better role model in that regard, nor could I come up with an excuse to deliver anything less than what I had. She initially decided to keep it, and I scrambled around trying to find a new contrac t through my job which would supply me with a complete, secondary income. I got it.
This is about the time in which I should disclose that she has (to this present day), a drinking problem. And the drinking never stopped. "One more day" became a few weeks before I knew it, and since we weren't living together, I wouldn't be surprised if I found out that she drank every single day while she was pregnant. A hasty, crazy decision at work quickly turned into an mistake since I was now committed to this new contract, and to make matters worse, we had to make a decision about this pregnancy. The decision she made was to go ahead and terminate the pregnancy, and for the life of me, I think I took that entire episode worse than she did. It was pathetic. We were the oldest people at the clinic. I'm pretty sure we were the only ones with jobs. She was the only white woman there. I've never felt so self-aware, so out of place, so ashamed in my entire life.
I decided not to let it end us, partly because I felt no different being the person that forked over the cash for it, than being the person sitting down on the chair getting the procedure done. Surely, this would be a harsh lesson on the effects of her drinking habit. The doctor would make a prescription, and would not allow intercourse for another 6 weeks. I respected the latter, but I swear, this entire episode would alter the relationship forever.
Beyond that, it was back to being a little distant, yet there was still effort on her behalf for the following months. We still weren't living together, but I was traveling for work, though I can't complain about her commitment to me while I was away. It was miserable being away from home, but she'd call, we'd video chat, and it was very comfortable being with her during those long stints out of town. Upon coming back after a few projects, we got engaged. However, after that, sometimes I'd be back, not knowing how long I'd be in town for, and she wouldn't receive me on that first night. We'd eventually spend time together, if only for a few hours, but there'd never be any intimacy, or even a moment alone to just spend the rest of our time together. I mean, I've traveled before, and my exes couldn't wait to see me again. It was almost addicting, being gone, and then having the time of my life once I'd get back. That thrill was gone with this one.
We'd eventually get married legally, while I was under contract, and even then that day felt weirdly disconnected. We came home, and it was like it was some random Tuesday that we'd have gotten into a fight from the Monday before. We didn't even have a romantic night that night or anything. From that point on, it was distance, distance, and even more distance, along with more and more drinking. I put the drinking on her job, since she seemed to be overly stressed with it, to the point where she'd talk in her sleep about how unhappy she was at work. I told her that she had the option of quitting, I'd absorb her financially, if that would reduce how much she was drinking. It didn't work, in fact, her quitting her job only let her start drinking from earlier in the day. Still, no intimacy.
Intimacy, since I've now mentioned it a bunch. I swear. In the past almost year that we've been married, it's been like 8 times total. If that. I've been with all sorts of different people over my entire life, and this is the only time that it's ever been this way with anyone before. If it happens, I can expect a 3 week moratorium while she "heals" because I apparently hurt her. Otherwise, the timing has to be just right. I'm not allowed to ask. If I do, the responses range from "Is that what you want?" to "I'm tired" to "Fine, just take what's yours". I especially don't like the rapey vibe of that last one, so there's never going to be a scenario in which I redeem that voucher.
I haven't been a saint, either. As a result of all of this frustration, I've become distant. I don't involve myself anymore. I've become verbally abusive. I'll tell her that I'm tired of feeling like I'm in 2nd place in every regard to her life. I wasn't her first choice. Our relationship always seems like it will never reach the importance to her previous relationship in her eyes. I don't get any respect whatsoever, since I'm on married man mode, and she's still trying to act like a local party girl. I've flat out asked her what that one guy had that I didn't, aside for the nerve to take advantage of a woman that gets blacked out drunk like she gets. Things like that. It hurts to say, it hurts to compare, but it's gotten to the point where all I do is single-handily support this household and not even get a wife, not a friend, not even a roommate I can stand out of it. I'm just living with someone, wondering night after night as to what else is out there.
2015 has been a terrible year. It started off with my truck (with my wallet inside) being stolen. Money was spent from that wallet before I ever even realized the truck was stolen. The apartment complex we live at was willing to play ball to our predicament, so agreed not to evict us (they're quick about it here), provided that we pay the late fees on top of rent that we would accrue. On due date, we were given an inconvenient time of 2pm on a weekday to pay up, something I wasn't able to do because I was at work. I called her in regards to paying these people, and she was entirely unhelpful and borderline apathetic. I've always been on time with rent, and we couldn't afford to have an eviction on our records. I've never been evicted before, so I didn't know if I was going to come "home" to my belongings outside, or if we'd be locked out of our own home. I seriously could've threatened to blow up her car, and she wouldn't have budged. It was 1:30pm. How do I get her to move? Her dogs. I told her that if she didn't meet me for the rent money, that I'd make it my life's mission to set her dogs free in Arkansas (we live in Houston).
That turned out being my second biggest mistake since getting married. After getting home and having an otherwise decent day with her now that the rent had been paid, I used the computer for several hours until I decided to have a cigarette. I noticed that her and the dogs were gone, and I began to panic. I swear, I couldn't rule out that she took a dog for a walk, got assaulted, and begged her kidnapper to allow her to get the second dog so that they could all die together. She's that crazy about her pets. The front door was unlocked, and there was a spilled drink on the ground. I call the police, because all of her stuff was still at home, and I couldn't rule anything out. After they went looking for her, they told me that she left the house because she feared for the safety of her dogs. Like I said earlier, we live in Houston, but I don't even hunt lol. But she took that pinch of an excuse to go to her parents house and stay there for the weekend.
So here we are now, and she's cooked up a solution with her parents that it's marriage counseling or bust. That I need to compromise. Her complaints are my distance, the arguing, and everything that is purely a product of the fact that what was once a screw up on her behalf, has become a chapter that is bold, highlighted, underlined, and italicized because she won't touch me. Her defense is that she won't do so because I'm mean and distant, yet I didn't become that way until she stopped being intimate with me. Of course, I'd be willing to bet that her parents don't know half her indiscretions to her side of the story (there are more, like her blowing up her exes phone one night and his fiancee called me, or like her ex boyfriend soliciting her for sex on FB), but they must be extremely blind to who she is because of the fact that they're not even aware that she has a drinking problem.
Our problems are many, but I feel like everything she has to complain about me is a reaction to something about her. Her drinking, she will get BLACK OUT DRUNK, yet she expects me to be ok with her going out in public to drink. She expects me to be OK with her friends, yet they've shown nothing but disrespect toward me during our relationship. If they're not breaking us up, they're soliciting her for sex, getting her drunk before sundown, or literally asking her to be there date for events, like I run a wife for rent service. She expects me to wait for sex, not demand. I have to wait for the unicorn to hop the aurora borealis at 11:11pm on the 29th of February, at which we'll be notified via messenger pigeon for the OK for her to get frisky with me, otherwise, tough luck.
So here I am, at my parents house, thinking about playing Mario Kart on the SNES after I finish typing this up, realizing that I am now further away from work for tomorrow morning. I really do hate my life.
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