Runaway in Hudson, WI
I did end up running away last night after work. I got into the car and took a deep breath. Did I want to go home? Did I want to yell and scream and pound my fists? No... I didn't.
I made the phone call I was dreading for fear I would say something I would regret later. I promised myself it would be short and sweet, "I'm going to nene's, I'll call you later." It didn't work that way of course. He put on the charm. Telling me about his day, asking me about mine, joking, saying "I love you, have fun, be careful, call me on your way home."
So, I took 494East instead of West... and ended up at my friend Nene's bedside at about 5:50.
Nene is quite the character. She got the name Nene (pronounced NAENAE) because as a child I had this uber-daycare lady and her name was Renee. She was this round lovely lady whom I still keep in contact with today and love her dearly. She was firm but loving and always had sugar cereal! Everymorning that it was a day care day, my mom/dad would come to our little beds and say, "wake up sunshine." To which we would SPRING awake and yell "YAY, its NENE DAY!!!". We couldn't say Renee, so forever she was known as Nene. When I met my friend Renee in college it was too hard to fight the urge, and she allowed me to call her Nene. Of course, I'm the only one allowed to use this nickname for her, many have tried all have failed. Mr. M even called her Nene once... I say once because he was quickly responded to with a "It's RENEE." HA! From that day forward he always says, "RENEEEEEE" in a whiny voice cause he's jealous that he can't call her Nene.
--end tagent.
Nene works nights at a major Window and Door manufacturer on the factory line. She's about 130 pounds and manages to stick with the big boys hauling glass. This is a strange job for her since I met her in college and she sang next to me in the Alto section. She also was studying vocal performance with dreams of singing at the Met. I refer to her life right now as "the hiatus". I know she'll come back to her roots.
So I woke her up at almost 6 oclock to go have dinner or breakfast in her case. We went to this lovely little wine bar called "The Nova" in Hudson, WI where she lives. There are places in this world that are warm and those that are cold, this place is warm like fresh baked bread and footsy pajamas on a snow day. It has big fat cushy leather couches and chairs sitting in front of a fireplace. There are tables with little tiffany lamps glowing on each one. The tables have cherry wood chairs that look like thrones. A small baby grand piano sits in one corner and the restaurant smells of a wood burning stove. Its a lovely place.
We order a bottle of white wine (we're usually red wine drinkers so this is out of the norm). But it is a lovely new zealand wine called Nobilo. Crisp and fresh tasting with a a hint of grapefruit. We order a cheese plate and a chicken pesto and pine nut pizza.
Once we get our wine I hold my glass up for cheers, she clinks her glass and I say, "to break ups". She whips her hand back, "ooooh no I'm not toasting to that, I rescind my toast!" She says, "come on lady, spill it."
I unroll the whole story, the distance, the awful talks of marriage, the angry snips we say to each other knowing full well it's the perfect insult. Nene listens contently rolling her wine in her glass and sipping from time to time. Until I finally conclude with, "so I think I should just leave him and spare myself the drawn out bullshit."
She thinks, eats a piece of cheese, takes a sip of wine and says, "oh no you won't." She goes on to explain to me that she knows in her soul that Mr. M is the one for me. She has never said this about any other suitors of mine. She has mostly hated everyone else I've brought around. But, for some reason she took a liking to Mr. M from the get go. I tell he doesn't want to marry me, EVER! She says smuggly, "yes he does."
After one bottle of wine, a full stomach, and some encouraging words from Nene I got a call from Mr. M "I'm staaaaarving, and all we have is boxed chili!" Which isn't true, but he does this to be funny. I rattle off a list of things he could eat as he dismisses all of them (which is another game he likes to play). Then I offer to pick him up some Wendy's (his favorite cheeseburger, who knows). He says yes, that would be delish. On my home he called 2 more times, no I don't want wendy's, yes I do, and finally no forget the wendy's.
I walk in the door and he's on the couch, tie and shirt buttons undone. I lay on top of him, and for once he doesn't fake like he's suffocating. He lets me just lay on his chest and listen to his breathing. I kiss him on the cheek and say goodnight, to which he responds "It's only 9:30!!" I'm an early sleeper what can I say. I go up to bed and fall asleep.
He cuddles in a few hours later, gives me a peck and an I love you gnight.
I'm still angry, there's just never a good time to bring this kind of thing up. If I were to bring it up, I'm not sure where I'd even begin, or what I'd even be asking him to do.
3 Comments:
Hang in there :)
According to statistics, I'm supposed to be a complete disaster. I lived with my ex before we married, but we were married for 25 years.
25 years of marriage, most of it good. You can't exactly say all those years of marriage meant nothing just because we finally got divorced. And believe me, living together first didn't have anything to do with the divorce. His alcoholism, however, had almost *everything* to do with it.
Now I'm remarried and I'm even a bigger statistical disaster, since I was still married when I met my current husband. We also lived together before we got married too. Let's see...having an affair, then getting married to the person you have the affair with means something like a 95 percent chance of divorce in the first year, I'm told.
Yet, we're still very happily married almost 5 years later now and are regarded as THE happy married couple amongst our friends and family. All lovey-dovey and that good stuff.
So tell Mr. M phooey on the statistics. YOU two can make your life whatever you want it to be. :-)
Isn't it amazing what a good friend can do? Even if it is just for a rant. I've been with my guy for nearly 3 years and he wants to get hitched...he's from the country with the highest rate of divorce worldwide. How comforting! :P
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