Ex-husband #3 – The Unanswered Letters

My marriage to ex-husband #3 should have never happened. I even had concerns prior to our marriage. I found a therapist and we spent weeks talking about him and the pending nuptials.

The main reason I kept the plans moving forward was because of my mother. She believed that a woman had to be married to be a success in life. Looking back at her marriage to my father, that should have shown her that life without a man was better than the life she had with him.

At the time of my engagement, my mother was dying of bladder cancer, and having me married off before she died was her wish. The cancer decided otherwise. She died on September 1 and we were married on September 12.

I had always wanted “a real wedding” held in a church with bridesmaids, a flower girl, a ring bearer and me wearing a fancy long dress. Plus, a sit-down dinner for friends and family at the local country club. And, a honeymoon in Bermuda. Those things did happen. A fairy tale event with a happy ending. Not quite.

Once we returned from the honeymoon, reality hit me in the face. Within one week, #3 was back to working 60 hours a week with a 90-minute round trip commute. And, I tore the cartilage in my knee and had surgery two days later.

On the trip home from the hospital, #3 insisted I sit in the front, but there just wasn’t enough room for my leg to stay straight. I didn’t think of the option of sitting in the back which I should have. I just put up with the pain for the 40-minute ride home, though I did complain the entire trip. At home, he put me in his Lazy Boy recliner and I was dependent on him to haul me out of it.  After a few hours of putting up with this arrangement, I had him move me over to the loveseat. From there, I could hobble to the bathroom and kitchen on my own.

My birthday falls on Christmas day and it was my first year without my mother to celebrate my birth. Of course, there was the new husband and his family, but they didn’t celebrate my birthday like my mother would have. I felt a sense of detachment from #3 and I know he wasn’t aware of how sad and lonely I felt about my mother’s death.

Over the next five years, I floundered along in our relationship. My collection of things grew: snow globes; teddy bears; Longaberger baskets; and of course, jewelry. These material things and romance novels kept me going. He did his hobbies and I did mine. Not exactly, my idea of a fairy tale.

During this time, I really didn’t know how he was feeling. He never participated in any of the discussions I tried to have about our relationship. I decided to write him a letter about my feelings. Here’s the interesting thing: he never commented on what I wrote. I waited days and finally asked how he felt about what I had written. His comment was, “I’m evaluating the contents of the letter.” He never responded to that one or any of the others I wrote to him. Those unanswered letters played a huge part in why my relationship ended with him.

To be honest, I was miserable. I wasn’t looking for anyone. Then Mary came into my life and we had a tryst. That choice turned into a wonderful, loving relationship, which has now been going on for 14 years. And Mary and I don’t need to write letters to each other about our relationship. That is because we communicate and share how we are feeling. Now, that is a fairy tale ending.

Until the next time…

Ex-husband #1 - I Married the Same Guy Twice. What?

A friend recently asked me “Why on earth did you marry the same guy twice?”  A reasonable question to ask, but much harder to explain. My relationship with ex-husband #1 was extremely complicated. My background prevented me from developing a solid relationship. A relationship was difficult to cultivate due to growing up with a harsh mother and father, plus making bad choices in boyfriends.

I’m going to label him #1 for the rest of this story. Remember, I have had three ex-husbands and I don’t want the other two to feel slighted that I haven’t written a story about them … at least not yet!

I met #1 when I was 24. I had dated guys prior to him, and none of them ever said "I love you" which he did say. After a brief courtship of two months, we were married in front of a Justice of the Peace and two of my girlfriends (who weren’t crazy about the marriage or him).

Three weeks into our marriage, I realized that I took on more than I could handle. He was so much like my father. Prior to our marriage we had lived together and we shared household chores. That all changed the day of our marriage as we were heading out to Estes Park, Colorado for a brief honeymoon.

We were delayed because he didn’t have any clean socks. He informed me that it was now my responsibility to do his laundry. And, of course, I did. I had learned from my mother to do whatever was asked so there wouldn’t be any angry outbursts. And, #1’s outbursts were equal to my father’s.

About a month into our marriage, he declared he was a Southern Baptist and had been for years. This was the first time that religion had ever come up in any of our conversations. He started rambling for about an hour about how his beliefs and those found in the Bible, were identical. I was shocked to say the least.

During our first marriage which lasted 17 months, he did something very interesting when it came to his religious beliefs. If it was beneficial for him to be religious he would be. When something came along that wasn’t religious in nature, and he could benefit by it, religion no longer played a part in whatever he was doing.

Case in point. He had made friends with a co-worker who had a woman on the side while still married. It happened that #1 became interested in a friend of theirs and decided he wanted to date her.

We had plans to invite my mother and step-father over for Thanksgiving dinner. Earlier in the day, #1 announced that he had leased an apartment and was moving out the next day. Wow, I didn’t see that coming at all. No hint that he was thinking of a separation much less a divorce.

During our separation, I was having a hard time with accepting what was happening. I asked him many times what we could have done to save our marriage. He never gave me an explanation as to what was the true cause of our pending divorce.

A few months after the divorce was final, he reappeared in my life. The main reason was he needed my savings to get his commercial license to fly small planes at a flight school in Vero Beach, Florida (same school that one of the 9/11 terrorists went for their training). He convinced me to marry him again, and I did. The day after the ceremony, we left Denver to move to Florida.

Two days into the trip, he lost it and showed his anger issues in a big way. He was driving a U-Haul truck and towing our car. It was late at night, and we missed the exit we needed to head south to Florida. He started cussing which turned into screaming and pounding his hands on the steering wheel. At that moment, I knew I should never have remarried him.

The final straw was two years later when we were living in Columbus, Ohio. We had ants crawling around in our kitchen. I called the landlord and asked for the kitchen to be sprayed. Several days after the spraying, I still saw a few ants in the kitchen and I asked #1, “Why are there still ants in the kitchen?” Well…he went ballistic and threw a frozen juice can at my head. Luckily, I ducked or it would have hit me. It seems, he felt that I was blaming him for the ants still being in the kitchen. Really?

By the way, the frozen juice can hit a plaque on the wall behind me, and dented the plaque. I kept that plaque for years, to remind me of the mistake I made by marrying him at all.

Our second marriage lasted only 23 months. I moved out of the apartment within a week of the frozen-juice can episode, and I immediately started divorce proceedings. 

Until the next time…

I'm Allergic to Fire!

I’m afraid of fire. You would think that I would never put myself in harm’s way because of my fears. There are three separate times in my life where I have experienced closeup the effects of what fire can do when unleashed.  

When I was a child, my mother was a nurse at the hospital on the Air Base where we lived. In her mind, to keep me safe from fire she told me how dangerous it was. Anytime someone came in that was a burn victim, I was given vivid details of their injuries.

Fire #1:
Needless to say, I stayed away from flames and I didn’t even light my first match until I was 21. And, that was only under duress from a sorority sister who thought it was time for me to deal with my fears. I did manage to light a candle, though it took many attempts, and in celebration we went down to the kitchen to get a snack.

Luckily, we came back in time. The flame from the candle had engulfed a number of magazines, and was making its way toward the curtains. I went into freeze mode, and was no help whatsoever. Quick thinking, and a cool head from my cohort kept our sorority house from burning down that night.

Fire #2:
Husband #1 and I saw an orange glow in the southern skies one night while living in Vero Beach, Florida. We rode towards the glow on his motorcycle, and many miles outside of Vero we found the cause.

A huge grove of palm trees was on fire. Many firefighters from nearby towns were doing their best to get it under control. We had pulled off the road and were close to a small group of homes. There were owners spraying their roofs down with garden hoses. There were embers in the air but we were still at a safe distance. We watched the palm trees exploding from the intensity of the heat. It looked like fireworks shooting out from the trees. We sat on the motorcycle mesmerized by the sight and sound of the flames consuming all the vegetation. Then the wind shifted.

We didn’t realize how fast the fire was moving toward us. Embers were landing around us. People were yelling and moving quickly off their rooftops. Did I mention that when we got off the main highway, we had cut through some rough terrain to get to where we were? Our only option was to ride toward the houses, and use their road to escape.

At this point, embers were hitting us, the heat was getting intense, and I’m screaming inside my motorcycle helmet. Husband #1 guns the engine and we shoot down the road weaving around debris and embers. People were backing out of their driveways, and we were competing for the same road space. Words of advice -- stay away from exploding palm trees. They can be dangerous to your health.

Fire #3:
After leaving ex-husband #2, I moved into an apartment complex overlooking the Potomac River in Washington D.C. The very day I moved in, I heard several women mention how often the fire alarms would go off in the building, and they just ignored them.That night the alarms went off. I looked out into the hallway saw nothing, and went back in.

A week later, I’m watching TV and I heard a “boom” and felt a “thud” near my kitchen. I walked in, and felt the wall to the adjoining apartment but didn’t feel anything so I went back to watching T.V. About twenty minutes later the fire alarm starts going off and, of course, I just ignored it. 

Normally, it shuts off and this time it just kept going. This time I looked out into the hallway. There was smoke, but I could still see down the hallway. What do I do? I go into my closet and start choosing items that would be appropriate to wear. It took three tries, before I found the perfect outfit. Hey, I didn’t know when I’d see my apartment again.

I opened the door again and there was more smoke and several firemen. They were breaking down my neighbor’s door and I could see flames -- lots of them. Oh shit! Did I mention I lived on the eighth floor? Next problem, do I lock my door or not? That problem was resolved when a fireman entered my apartment and checked my kitchen wall.

He said the building was well made and the fire more than likely wouldn’t come through from the adjoining apartment but they would keep checking to make sure. In the meanwhile, he strongly suggested I leave which I was planning to do but then another problem arose.

All of my neighbors were ignoring the alarm. I started beating on doors as I headed toward the staircase yelling that this was the real thing. At this point, people started opening their doors. I made it outside when I realized I should have tried on a fourth outfit. It was so cold out, and I ended up being outside for more than a hour, though it felt much longer.

I’m standing by the fire trucks, and trying to get information on how my kitchen wall was holding up, when my neighbor walks up. He must have gotten a phone call because he knew it was his place that was on fire. But he wanted to be sure, and I made it abundantly clear that it was. I said something whiny about “I’ve only been here a week.” Come to find out, the cause of the fire was the gas pipe connected to his stove had developed a crack and the fumes filled up the stove and blew off the oven door which hit the wall. Yup, that was the “boom” and “thud” I had heard earlier.

Finally, I got back into my apartment and I had a lovely conversation with a fireman about why all my windows were opened. My apartment had filled up with smoke so they were trying to air it out for me. They even loaned me one of their big fans. I realized that I would be spending a lot of time and quarters in the building’s laundry room. Even after this event, the daily fire alarms were ignored by everyone…even me.

After one burning candle, acres of exploding palm trees and one cracked gas pipe, I’ve come to the conclusion, that fire and I don’t mix. Good thing I’m an earth sign, and not a fire sign!

I was Rude and I’m Very Sorry

The other day, I was entering a local bank and a man held the door open for me. I just passed through and I didn’t thank him which was rude of me. He said, “Your welcome” in a sarcastic tone and walked off. In my defense, while turning into the bank parking lot, I was almost t-boned by an oncoming car and I was quite shaken by the near miss. In retrospect, I should have stayed in my car and worked on calming myself down before charging out of the car which is what I did instead.

This incident got me thinking. To this man, I was a rude woman who didn’t appreciate that he had held the door open for her. In our lifetimes, we all have had encounters with people when we considered them extremely rude.

But what if that person wasn’t just being rude? What if something else was going on in his or her that over shadowed whatever had just occurred?

For example, Stephen Covey, the author of The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, tells a story about an incident while riding the subway one day. There were four children running around disturbing people. He spoke to the father about the children running wild and needing to quiet down. The father looked sadly at Steven and said, “We just left the hospital. My wife died. Their mother just died.”  Steven, with this new understanding, went into helpful mode and started gathering the children and telling them stories.

For the strangers that we mingle with daily while shopping, driving or standing in the line at the DMV, we don’t know what is happening in their lives. They could have just learned that they had: cancer; lost their job of many years; received divorce papers that morning. Who knows?

There are many rude people out in the world. We hear about those types in the news daily. What made them that way, we don’t know. Were they bullied as children? Abused by a family member? Given the world on a silver platter? What I do know is there are a lot of people carrying heavy burdens that come across as rude when they might have a good reason.

The moral of this story, for me at least, is that I hope the next time that I’m in a situation in which I become annoyed at someone’s behavior, I consider that something might be happening in their lives that is overriding their interaction with me, before I make a harsh opinion of their behavior. Maybe, if we were a little more understanding of others, our world would be a better place to live in.

Until the next time…