*Parent and family warning- if you aren't prepared to hear the crass and shocking shit yet to follow don't bother with this one, come back when I'm going on an intergalatic unicorn ride to the Bridge of Terabithia!*
I think a huge, long and destructive phase of my life may be over...
A phase that cost me so much of my energy and soul and generosity, a phase that cost me years of not believing I was worth everything, just some.
Where I settled when I shouldn't have...
I'd like to think this phase started with one simple strange attraction to the attitude of the jerk.
I'd like to call this:
"The asshole complex."
I'd like to think I am smarter than the average bimbo going for the loudest dude in the room, some obnoxious asshole everyone laughed with- or at- and somehow this drew me in like a fucking marooned ship to a lighthouse, why, I just can't figure out yet.
Still working through self discovery of why I married a son of a bitch alcoholic that had ridiculous standards for women, and a low tolerance to female sensitivity, with a large bag of sorrows on his shoulder at all times because he wasn't a millionaire, because it was almost a million dollars a year to keep him googly eyed drunk and stupid enough to deal with life and using that whisky sauce as the number one escape pod out of reality...
With some false ideals that seemed to be constructed out of fucking redneck hot air,
"This here's bottle of whisky-m-sauce will cure what ails m'."
GLUG GLUG GLUG, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
BELLLLLLCCCHHHHH.
Long pause.
I'M STUPID NOW, DON'T EXPECT MUCH FROM ME.
About a months of consumption, witnessed by me own eyes.
That wasn't a typo, ME OWN EYES MATE.
At some point this was my dream guy, he may have been ok for me when I met him but we were maturing at different paces, and not to brag but mine was greatly accelerated but one thing that changed near the end is I put my foot down and decided that I couldn't be treated that way, point blank end of discussion.
What else can I say? The choices I made are a part of my life, not to say I didn't love my ex at some point, just that when he exausted me with endless garbage and this guy had the memory of a shell shocked soldier out of WW2 from drinking whisky like water, with strange aggression towards nothing, air, me, embarrassing to be in public with by drawing attention to our table at restaurants, making old man jokes that people only laughed at, at him, not the joke, the waitresses would hate him.
He had some strange aversion to anyone who liked me as a friend, as if he couldn't even understand why I could have friends or perhaps it was a jealousy, the fact that I am independent and have my own life, while he was fantasizing that I was a loser with no goals as he pounded whisky down his "whisky tunnel" aka throat.
Yup, that was a fucking burn if you need a lesson on how to write on here it is.
He did tell me that he always thought my blog was "stupid" again, usually said with a limp dick and a mouthful of whisky, staring at poker on his phone.
USE-LESS
Go to dick-tionary dot com first thing you'll see is a flaccid penis, Homer Simpson and that douche. The one who told me he didn't love me after I had cancer, "it changed me too much" because I started hobbies, more ambition, a more diverse life, that made him jealous.
So heres your stupid blog, if you bother to read it since it's soooo stupid.
Yeah, you've been hexed publicly, eat it dickweed.
SO ANYWAYS!
SA-LAAAAAMMMMMM
That felt good, anyways, eradication of this complex has been taking place for a couple of years, probably why as soon as I had the strength to jump off the boat after cancer I did, to save myself and any potential innocent children a lifetime of abuse.
Before cancer, somehow I had the self esteem most of the time to say no when it counted, to move on when needed, to be a strong independent woman *snap snap snap*.
Something happened almost the day I was diagnosed, I felt lucky to "have a man" to save me. Or so I thought. That continued on and I threw my own expectations to the wayside, since I was sick and he was "putting up with it" as far as it all felt.
This is the first time I have said this publicly, but it is as public as it gets-
I got married because I thought I was going to die.
That is a huge confession, even to myself, and to say it the first time to myself after knowing it my gut for a long time, a sense of peace washed over me, there was a purpose.
That purpose was gone once I was on my feet and not a patient anymore, not too weak to speak up about what mattered to me, what I felt like I was missing and what I didn't want, and I opened my mouth only to be negatively reinforced, avoided, shut out.
I said enough.
Now here I am today, a couple long term failed relationships under my belt and a history for going for jerks, quiet jerks, loud jerks, whiny jerks, boring jerks, mean jerks, jerks, jerks jerks!
I bypassed men along the way who were really nice to me and why?
I'd say some bizarre idea attached to the asshole complex that made me think that if they were nice they were boring, or I didn't want to be the focus and top priority, in essence, I didn't deserve real unconditional fair and equal love.
I didn't think I deserved the best, even if I could give the best.
They didn't have to, but to me I did.
Well, I am not going to get all in detail so I don't get texts like
"GURRLLLLL WHO YOU FUCKIN?"
BUT yes, someone is helping me change this view, someone who I felt I knew a long time, an instant friend. I'll leave it at that for now.
I am just slowly and safely letting myself be valued.
By myself, and now I expect the same from any guy, I want a fair and non-traditional partnership. Who cares what the guys supposed to do and the girls supposed to do?
Why can't it be fair and simple, like a good relationship should be?
I decided that was that and here I go into a new world, and I feel good about it, I feel good about my future, I BELIIIIIIIIEVVE!
PREACH!
So please young ladies, tell that asshole to hit the road on the shoelace express, delete his number or if you are still locked in divorce style issues just change his name to Beavis, or Butthead, how about Beavis Butthead.
I've seen "dicksucker" and "asshat" as a moniker for an ex, whatever burns and scathes, you don't have to call them these names because you get the satisfaction of looking at your phone with a picture of Homer Simpson eating a rotten submarine with the name "fat slob" and a number then you can answer with a smile.
You have got to keep a constant reminder not to go back to misery, never to lower your expectations... or you'll end up with a dating profile like this one:
AHAHAHAHAHA One of my faves. I cannot get ENOUGH Eddie Murphy jokes, ever, but this next one is just beyond priceless.
BUT WAIT! Best for last.
So what happens when your lower those expectations- well in short and not so sweet you ruin your goddamm life as you know it.
Fuck all that noise and constantly strive to be better, to deserve better, and by being better starts with loving yourself enough to believe you deserve better, and do for your life, others likeminded folks will be drawn to you, and you face a chance at a real and fair partnership, if you can let it happen, and throw away that asshole complex.
I know so many women will be like, "I don't have that problem" and maybe they don't or they lie to themselves which is totally normal man, but many do, and I am telling you if you have this complex smash it into pieces, the "asshole" is not the fun guy, he's the guy that's going to fuck up your life if you invest in him, so don't do it, take my word for it.
I'll end on a song you should always remember, as a mantra even.
That would be all for today, intergalactic unicorn sparkles to all of you.
-E.
