The Secret(s) That We Ke[e]p-t

This happened a year ago today...in a park, far far away.

We said I Do.

And outside of this blog post it's never been mentioned here, or anywhere (except to a select few people on social media that we [thought we could] trust), for a variety of reasons...and it nary will again...probably.

One year. The poor poor man...

[apologies to people who may be hurt that we never told them...it was nothing personal, and most times it was out of a feeling of necessity...and we meant to tell people a lot sooner...and...we're done making excuses...:-(...]

On The Topic Of Same-sex Marriage

Image Source

Same-sex marriage, hot topic in the media lately...we finally came to a place where we want to do a little entry about it...because we're tired of discussing it with ourselves, and getting angry over the ignorance and intolerance.

Religious people want to preserve the sanctity of marriage, as if there is any left. Divorce rates are high, infidelity is high, society has turned it into reality TV fodder, many of the younger generations (and mid-30's) aren't even wanting to participate it in because they have witnessed the marriages of their heterosexual parents, many times full of neglect, misery, abuse, hate, alcoholism, divorce and distrust.

Sanctify that.

Add the media coverage and law to the equation, and the idea of restricting marriage to being between ONLY a man and a woman becomes such a conflicting jumble of bullshit being ploughed into the minds of the public.

Many developed countries in the world recognize same-sex marriage. The few countries in the world that refuse to recognize it as a right (and in some cases don't even recognize homosexuality exists [China]) are countries many citizens of United States, that oppose same-sex marriage, would be hard-pressed to alight themselves with. Enemies, terrorists, countries not generally recognizes as developed (most of Africa and the Middle East).

We were channel surfing the other night and landed on a news show (not sure what channel it was, could have been msnbc) where a group of woman were talking about prenuptial agreements (for those who may not know what they are, while we abhor Wikipedia, in this case it'll give you the gist of what it is: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prenuptial_agreement), and the fact that marriage is a contract agreement between two people, and that's why prenuptial agreements are so important because it helps clearly defines rights and protects both parties in the event of the dissolution of the contract (some even include clauses regarding pets).

Separation of church and state, true separation, where the religious beliefs of a group of people do not impact the overall laws of those who are not a part of that religion is part of what American was founded on - it's part of the Constitution of the United States of America. You can see here where separation of church and state, and religious freedom, TRUE religious freedom, go hand in hand. American freedom is great, as long as you have access to that ever fleeting illusive ideal, lately it seems like freedom is fine as long as the freedom you want doesn't make the religious people uncomfortable (*cough* pro-choice abortion rights and Planned Parenthood in Arizona *clears throat*)

It's fine that people whose religious beliefs dictate that marriage is between a man and a woman adhere to that belief. It is their right to believe what they want. It is not fine, or their right, to unfairly shape the lives of others, using those beliefs. Churches have a right to deny a religious ceremony, just like they can deny heterosexual ones, if they so choose, based on their pre-determined criteria. Plenty of heterosexual couples get married outside of religious institutions, in courthouses, in parks, in Vegas, by non-clergy. Why not extend those rights to any human being, of adult age, who love each other enough to enter into a binding legal contract?

And as a side note, those people who like to interject with "Well then, why don't people just marry a sandwich/sheep/vehicle/etc" you look like a fucking idiot when you indicate that homosexuals/gays, are not even the same species as other humans. But looking like an ignorant fool is also your right.

The law that was recently passed in North Carolina is a step in the opposite direction of progress, progress being equal rights, part of the definition of a developed county (you need only look at undeveloped, third-world countries to see that).

Furthermore, who somebody loves sexually is none of anybodies business (with the obvious exception of a child, or another person who is married)...at least the people entering into that permanent relationship recognize they love each other, just as a heterosexual couple getting married love each other, and are willing to make that commitment.

And finally, mind your own fucking business. If you oppose same-sex marriage just remember, it doesn't affect your life, affect your "after life", hinder your freedom (which it ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT in any way), so what's your fucking problem. Just because you don't understand it, and therefore fear it/hate it, doesn't make it any less legitimate. It just means you have a narrow view of love...and meanwhile, how dare you love the person you love? Some people think them unattractive, too fat, too skinny, too bitchy, too nice, too slutty, too mentally ill, they're of a different ethnic background as you, a different financial class as you, they've already been married once, twice, maybe more, they have children...how dare you love them.

Let people love who they want, in a world full of people who increasingly find love to be an alien and distant concept, or worse, reality show entertainment, let somebody be an example of true love...they fight hard for their right to love the people they love.

~ Ivy et al
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'Same-sex marriage legislation around the world'  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Same-sex_marriage_legislation_around_the_world (complete with map)

The Emergence of Frank: Three Times A Rescuer

The Other Girl had often been taken by impulse. Never one to think things through, on any level, her impulses had always created excitement in her life; it had also created great trials and tribulation.

One day, shortly before she moved to a new State, she woke up to go into the kitchen, only to nearly slip on the ice thinly covering the floor; she had had enough. Following that, in a fit of anger over her job, The Other Girl walked out on lunch break from her Factory Job, and never went back. Needing to escape the life she was stuck in, in a geographical location with poor job prospects; and living in a house, in the dead of winter that had no heat, she felt the urge of change and followed her impulse.

She had started seeing a widower with three children, who she had met on a vacation in New Mexico over The Holidays. He had moved to the Northwest of the United States shortly after they met and after The Other Girl had went home. She thought that Northwest sounded interesting. In less than a week She and her roommate, Ducky, packed it all up and moved.

So, with her two cats, her dog, and her friend, they embarked on an adventure to The Northwest to begin the rest of their life. Not surprisingly, the relationship with The Widower ended shortly upon her arrival; she was just happy to get the hell out of where she had been. She was 18 and this was her first big move from the Midwest.

The Other Girl had met a man online, a couple months after moving to the new State. She really enjoyed him, they had a lot of fun, he was her first love. But, being The Other Girl, she played with fire, and she got scorched. She ruined this relationship by finding another, and getting taken in by his charm. We really don’t know what the charm was.

While working at a .com as a security guard, somehow she became interested in a man much her senior. So much her senior, in fact, that he was a year older that both of her parents. For whatever she saw in him, to this day, we don’t know; The Other Girl was never able to explain it to us in the aftermath that was their relationship, once we had all got together again. He was a despicable human being.

The Other Girl began smoking, having quit for a brief period, so she could take breaks with him, and talk to him. He was a very smart man. With a genius IQ, who spoke often of Einstein, a man he admired. He poured over books, and while he was very intelligent, his skills at actually being a decent human stopped short of having a brain. Before she knew what happened she was living with him.

Having been persuaded to quit her job very early on, and move in with him, she became a full time housewife; which at her young age of 20, was all she had ever wanted. The Other Girl found herself living with a man who was an alcoholic, a workaholic, a drug addict; though at this point in his life it was only marijuana of which he partook. He was also a pedophile of sorts - no matter what anyone tells us, young Traci Lords videos (she was 15), his inability to destroy them, and his seething anger at his partners destruction of them, means he had a problem.

After a couple of months of living with him she found paperwork regarding abuse charges involving his last two wives; yes he had been married twice before meeting The Other Girl. She also found out that he had been lying about his age by 6 years.

We never quite understood why she stayed with him. We know it had something to do with “daddy issues”. It was also the comfort of having a partner who was well off financially, and while it was not a lot of money, it was more than her life had ever known or seen. The Other Girl married for the hope of love and the desire of financial comfort; and in our opinion there is never enough money to validate such an action – it’s akin to selling your soul.

It didn’t take long for The Other Girl to begin drinking at home after having lost the friendship she had had with her roommate, and being forced into isolation by a controlling partner who wanted to know of her whereabouts at all times, and was suspicious of her every action. She spent much of her day drinking, napping, and occasionally talking on the phone with Bananarama, a friend back in the Midwest, while they watched Golden Girls together, thousands of miles apart.

When it had been months since he had touched her and after being woken up several, uncountable nights, to find him masturbating to pornography in the living room, and sometimes in the office, while she slept; she expressed her concern over the fact that he had not made love to her in months. His response to this was to buy her a vibrator, instead of physically loving her in a way that a husband is supposed to love his wife. It took years, and years, before The Other Girl could even consider enjoying porn again. The damage had been done to her.

Every time The Other Girl left the house she became convinced that her partner was having her followed, she became paranoid and “depressed” – she began smoking pot all day to mask the pain, the negative thoughts; eventually she began sleeping all day, because she was paranoid of his porn use while she slept. She would go weeks without showering with no notice from her partner, who was more interested in making sure she picked him up from work on time, and had dinner prepared, so he could sit at the table and drink, and smoke pot, and watch the History channel.

One day, while at home alone, as she usually was, she tried to overdose with pills and a bottle of Vodka. Ultimately it was a failure, but it landed her in an adult day program at a psych ward; because god forbid she not be home at night to make him dinner.

It was at this point in her life that The Other Girl got diagnosed with Manic Depression and Social Anxiety Disorder, and general depression. Her psychiatrist used her as a guinea pig, changing up medications frequently over a short period of time. They pumped her full of an assortment of drugs – Lithium, Celexa, Zyrexa, Lexapro, Serequel, Paxil, Sezone, Wellbutrin and when she couldn’t sleep anymore, they gave her Ambien. Some of the medication made The Other Girls hair fall out, some made her feel worse than she had before. When she as on Lithium The Other Girl was required to take blood and urine tests to monitor liver and kidney function. She saw psychiatrist, and therapists, and doctors; all the while unbeknownst to The Family. The Mother was aware, we think. The Other Girl never mentioned it. Too sedated to know or remember.

She had low self esteem to begin with; and now faced with a life of mental illness she couldn’t resist the promise of a future as a wife, and the possibility of being a mother – something she had always wanted.

He started saying things like, "When we get married" and "When you are my wife"; he never really proposed. After nine short months of dating, she stood at the altar in front of strangers, The Ex Husbands employees; and with no friends and no family as witness, she said “I do”. She cried when the words came out of her mouth, not because of happiness, but because she knew she was making a mistake.

The fact that he had been two hours late for their own wedding rippled through her mind and tore at her heart, which had already been riddled with doubt. She remembered sitting, waiting, and contemplating running. In the end what made her stay was entrapment. You see, if her desire to be loved, she left behind her roommate, the only friend she had locally; she had no job, no money, had a drinking problem, had tried to commit suicide, was on expensive medications, and was smoking lots of pot to escape the reality that was the already terrible situation.

The Other Girl thought if he married her, that meant he loved her – despite the glaring contradictory examples of her own parents marriage; and the glaring examples laid out before her in the actuality of this relationship – but she thought: at least he didn’t want to physically abuse her.

It should be noted here, that The Ex Husband, while he was married to The Other Girl, was also married to Another Woman. They have been going through divorce procedure, and instead of waiting for that to complete The Ex Husband married The Other Girl – making her The Third Wife. The finalization of the divorce of The Ex Husband and The Other Girl came before that of The Ex Husband and The Second Wife. We don’t know if she was privy to this before hand, or after it was too late.

A couple months after they were married, The Ex Husband changed jobs and they moved to Chicago. It was there he decided to get “clean”, to quit drinking, and to quit smoking pot. He began attending AA and was successful at his endeavour. The Other Girl went off her medication, not wanting to try to find new doctors and not wanting to be sedated any longer.

He was still as controlling, The Ex Husband. The Other Girl was not allowed to leave the house but for errands and shopping. She joined a screenwriting club, only to withdraw shortly after because she could no longer bear the badgering and accusations from her husband, and his insecurity over having a young wife. He even started accusing her of philandering with the man who lived on the second floor of the duplex in which they lived. The Other Girl, while she had been a bit of a floozy in recent times, had never been one to be a cheater, she did it once years and years later, and that ended badly, but she had always been faithful, in every bad relationship she had.

About five months after they moved to Chicago, much clearer of head without medications, we became a team of three once again. Alert, and without the numbness of meds was able to get my attention, to let me know that The Other Girl was in trouble, again.

We devised a plan, we opened our own bank account, secretly, and began skimming money off the accounts we shared with The Ex Husband. Just a little here and there, making sure to be the one to get the mail when we knew the statements were coming in (this was before online banking). We rented a storage unit and began packing up, slowly, all the things in the house. We made plans with the mother, booked a flight to The Midwest. This took roughly 4-5 months. The skimming of the account took the most time. In the end we managed to collect $3000 to use so we could escape. We remember laying in bed, listening to him breath, wishing it would stop.

The day before we planned to leave, the ex husband, who by the way had not noticed the empty house and the disappearance of most of the items, came to us with a question about a travel plan that he noticed was scratched off of our calendar for the following week. Not being able to lie fast enough, because we suck at lying, we came clean.

“I’m leaving you tomorrow” we said to him.

He was shocked and upset. He tried to talk us out of it all night. He called us from work all morning the next day, crying, asking us to reconsider, and begging us to stay. We left that day, went to live with The Mother for a couple months before we relocated the Mountain States. There is another story that follows this…of how we became separated because of drugs and did some strange things before we got yet another diagnoses. 

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This is a prose we wrote in 2001, about our married life in Chicago:

Chicago Garbage

Speaking with grumbles and harsh gestures, slamming glasses, plates, each other.  No words.

That summer in the heat of Chicago I’d sit on the front steps and blow bubbles into the thick air, to the sky, waiting for the rain to come to wash away the garbage.  Planes would fly by and I would dream of travel to far away places, to lands uncharted, to sanity.  Escape.  The neighbor whistling signaling me to dance in my panties to Madonna while supper cooked on the stove and I cherished the few stolen moments left.  Pulling down the shades and closing the windows tight so that crazy lady next door with all the cats and birds couldn’t talk to me or peek in my windows.

Edge of the bed, nowhere to go but in.  Hating his smell, his breathing, wishing it would all stop.  Up to make coffee in the wee hours of the morning, while hateful words fly on the drive into the city..

Hail a cab, get on a plane, blow bubbles into the air and hope one comes back with a pink lady in it to take me and my dog to the next cliché rainbow to find an empty pot of gold, no trimmings please.

The rain never washed the garbage away, from the inside it couldn’t be reached.  Kids walked by with their dogs, leashed like me.  An uncommon pet kept common.  Like so many leashes being pulled and yanked, it’ll all snap.  So that in the end I no longer blow soap bubbles into the sky hoping for clean rain.  I’ll just wash the garbage myself.

For more prose/poetry that we wrote druing this time please visit Poetry Archives 2001

Laughing at insanity, but whose?

Sometimes men are just cracked in the head.  But so am I.


After a broken date last night, "The Plumber" started sending me texts late into the evening.  


How romantic is a marriage proposal via text?  Not at all.  Making me rolls my eyes, I responded by suggesting that he is insane, on drugs or drunk, or perhaps a combination of the three.  


Cut to me three hours later, me, blissfully asleep and being woken up by repeat phone calls (seemingly hanging up on someone immediately doesn't get the point across).  Apparently I had missed other texts in my sleep, him asking to pick me up and take me to his place.  Just had to see me I guess. I decided to give in.  I was already awake anyway, and once awake it's difficult for me to get back to sleep.


So there I was, 3am, throwing a change of clothes in my bag, laughing at my new found spontaneous streak this week and contemplating my own sanity.


What preceded was an unexpected evening of being told that he would "drink my bath water"; that he was so in love with me from the minute he laid eyes on me; that I am all he can think about; marriage proposals; expressions of love and an offer for me to move in with him.  Is that what happens when you ignore a man for two weeks?  What?


I had to explain that because I am not his girlfriend that none of that made any sense.  And I made sure to spell out that I have no interest in being his girlfriend. I just had to laugh at his outbursts of telling me the I was in love with him and he could tell by the way I look at him - clearly he can't read me well because the look I give him is that of constant amusement while my internal dialogue churns out thoughts of how dumb he really must be.


After trying to watch movies over his talking, and a brief sleeping interlude (and that's ALL there was...just so we are all on the same page here), he had to be up for work and being that he loves my company so, wanted me to go with him.  So while tooling around the city in his plumbing van this morning he asks:


"Why did we get back to here"


I looked around, fained confusion, grinned, said "we've never been here before" and took a sip of my coffee.


He picked up on the smart ass come back but really wanted an answer.  He says he figures that I must really like him.


I said: "You amuse me"


He didn't seemed thrilled that he was "entertainment" to me.  


The morning brought more talks of marriage - which, if you read my blog, is not a concept I am keen on these days (guess he wasn't drunk or on drugs last night...which means he is insane) - and telling me he wanted me to have his baby (also, not something on the plate). He can't understand why I don't want to marry him and so he shuttled me home so I can get on with my day, and now I sit writing this story, still laughing at the insanity; wondering if it is his insanity I am laughing at, or my own.

Re-thinking Marriage? ...(so much ramble)

You know what's great?  Writing the beginning of your blog in the car, on paper, then forgetting it in the passengers side visor, so when your significant other takes the car to work (thereby leaving you with the peace and quiet to write) you have to try to recall something you wrote two days ago, in the hot sun, while you waited for a wedding party to return from taking pictures across town, because your S.O. is part of said wedding party (Best Man actually); and you just had to drive across town (in a different direction) to deliver the cake (that he made), in the hot sun with poor air conditioning, all the time with your four way flashers on, going about 10-15 klicks (that's kilometers, and I'm not doing the conversion for my American friends) under the speed limit so the cake, and the small woman balancing it on her impossibly small lap, both don't end up planted in the dash. (Did I mention I hate driving slow?)

The Cake

I was at a wedding on Friday, which got me thinking about marriage; mainly because I really didn't know anyone there, so I was on my own - giving me lots of time for contemplation. It was my 'significant others' best friends wedding, which means you would think I would know at least one person who I could sit with - but they were all in the wedding party. 


Luckily I am good with "on my own".


Weddings can generally do funny things to woman, from what I hear; and what they do to men is up to our own imagination. I certainly got misty eyed (and not necessarily because of fond-marriage feelings), but not a single tear graced my cheek; I have retrospection to thank for that.


Key people in my family would love to see me married, at least before (and if) I start to procreate (and that time is coming), but the older I get the more marriage makes no sense. It's hard to believe in the idea of marriage with so many examples of it being a defunct practice.


I know of many marriages of "religious" couples that have ended in divorce, I know of plenty of people who have divorced despite having children together, and then there are those that stay together for the children - those kids will have issues to deal with, just like divorced kids. I've researched biblical readings on marriage to know that the bible doesn't necessarily have a hard stance on it, stating that the laws of your governing authorities are what dictates marriage requirements (1 Peter 2:13-16; Romans 13:1-6) and that, generally, the thing that stamps you as married is sexual relation (quick - how many people have you REALLY been "married" to?  Scary, isn't it?). That, and some money changing hands between the brides father/families and the grooms father/families - you know, because woman are property, like cattle. Mooooooo.


Some may say I am jadded. I was married at 21, to a man much my senior, and that relationship was a significant learning tool.  It took me many years after I ended the (very brief) marriage before I could honestly consider the idea of marriage again. With all the proof, and my own experiences, it's hard to understand todays logistics of marriage. Leaving me to pound my firsts on the table and scream "THEN WHAT'S THE GOSH DARN POINT?!".


Marriage does not guarantee permanency, it's an expensive tradition involving a legal contract (that can be broken), and means only what it means to the individual(s) entering the contract.


While certainly the topic comes up in my own relationship, sometimes prompted by waves of my own obsession and then squished out by my own rational, only to be brought back up to the surface by scary comments made by my significant other; things that should never be uttered to ME, but it happens anyway (and happens more frequently than I approve of).


"Once we get married we'll be together forever" (uh-huh *rolling my eyes*) or "Once we are married then you can never leave me" (which makes me think: "Oh, you think so? I smell a challenge.")

These are the wrong things to say to an independent, 30 (31 next week), already divorced woman who has slight commitment issues and a penchant for wanting to crush souls. Okay, so I don't want to crush souls but when I feel like I am being threatened then my guards will go up and anything can happen. Anything. (*insert evil laugh here*)

So, if I am a commitment-phobe (on any level) why do I obsess with the idea?  

For the answer to that question I reach into the recesses of my past to display 18 years of religious upbringing; training on how to live your life the way someone else is telling you to live it. These ideals are ingrained in my head, and sometimes my logic is on vacation (probably with my aforementioned Inspiration - which by the way, still hasn't returned because this is begin written by sheer self-force), and when this happens my brain turns to flights of fancy. 

The idea of marriage is a beautiful (albeit terrifyingly scary) concept, in theory.  In terms of whether or not I will be walking down that isle...last thing I said about the subject to my significant other (the day of the his best friends wedding): 

"If we get engaged can't we just be engaged forever?". 


But from the looks he gave me at that wedding, and the things he said to me throughout the day...let's hope my logic goes on vacation and stays there, for his sake.