He is the king of manipulation reversal. He doesn't care if we spend time together. He doesn't care if I happen to appreciate how another man looks. He doesn't care if I leave for hours without a call. Doesn't really matter. Nothing really matters except Wrestling, MMA and Xbox - the 3 Kings. He also doesn't hang around Jealousy avenue. I take that back.
He got jealous. Once. He met the man I was dating right before we met. Shawn. Shawn had big muscles and was well groomed. Shawn was a cutie pie. The sudd-muffin didn't like Shawn. Oh boy he was soooo jealous. It was exciting.
I believe he likes when I leave in one of my fits of anger. He has free time to do what he wants without me, the wife, asking for his attention. It's a win-win situation for him. If I say I am going out, there is no response. I can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, calculating how much lazy time he will have to play video games and just bum it. Ha! And I thought I was really getting his goat. Wrong. He got mine and milked that sucker dry.
So day after day, I send the signals and put out the layers of my marriage strudel, hoping he will bite. Layers stretched so thin you can almost see through em'.
He hates pie and tarts anyway so what was I expecting. He told me about a week ago he wasn't happy but he didn't want to be here, in Mississippi, without me.
I think he is lying. He has everything he needs here. His family, old friends, old territory, old memories. I don't really add anything to the mix. It's like once I finally agreed to move to Mississippi, all the promises and expectations stayed in Texas - along with my $1k camera.
It was all just talk.
My strudel is stuffed. I cook for him. He says, hey thanks. I fill my marriage with understanding. I stuff it with tiny steps of patience.
I ignore being ignored or being passed over for the Xbox. I even ask if I can play too. Nothing ever comes of that. I pray. Not for him but one of those, Lord change me prayers. Help me to understand that yes, I am being a bitch - excuse me, Lord forgive me.
Help me to understand that no, my husband has no idea what the word cherish means unless we are talking about his Star Wars memorabilia. Help me to understand me.
I have gotten over the sexy women on TV. I don't care how they look or if he is looking. Doesn't really matter to me anymore. I don't even care if he is looking at porn on the internet anymore. He can deal with that devil. I could give a pigs trough what I look like either. It's not like he actually sees me anyway. Not really. I am invisible. Everything is invisible.
My marriage strudel still sits here. Untouched. Festering. Rotting. Waiting for me to toss it out for the day and start anew tomorrow.
I should go shopping.
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