Husband Removal 101

September 18, 2008

(Post #3 of 4)

The day after discovering the best (or should I say only?) option for getting rid of my husband, I took Baby Bear to my sister’s house 40 minutes away.  I dropped him off, then came right back into town and went directly to the courthouse.  I waited in lines and filled out paperwork.  When I finally met with someone one-on-one, she reviewed my written statement and asked me a few pointed questions.  “Has he ever actually hit you?”  “No.  He pushed me down once, but he has never actually hit me.”

She told me that she could submit my statement to the judge for review, but it was unlikely the judge would order a personal protection order against my husband.  There had to be more concrete evidence of physical abuse.  She said she would go ahead and submit it today, or I could come back if anything happened.

So, I went home to see if I could “make something happen.”  I tried to open the front door, but it was locked.  He (I guess I’ll have to give him a name – Mark) came to the door.  He was more intoxicated than I’d ever seen him.  He normally held himself together pretty well despite drinking beer like it was water, but he was disoriented.  He thought I had been gone for 2 days…and he was disgruntled about it…and he wasn’t about to let me in the house.  (The house for which I had paid rent for 12 out of the last 14 months.)  I saw my opportunity.  I knew he wouldn’t let me past the front door, but I started to walk in the front door anyway.  He physically blocked me and I kept forging ahead.  Finally, Mark shoved me (really hard) backwards into the doorway.  Ouch…but victory! 

For having my first official experience with domestic violence, I was pretty content with myself.  It was too late in the day to go back to the courthouse, so I went back to my sister’s house and spent the night there.  The next morning, I went straight to court and successfully got my very own personal protection order.

Hairy Legs, Smelly Feet, and Toenail Polish

September 14, 2008

I like to spice things up on my blog(s) now and again.  Once I’ve written a few serious posts, I like to throw in some fluff.

I dated a guy several years ago named (Gosh, am I running out of fake names already?)…Moe.  Don’t ask me where I come up with these names, they just pop in my head.  He’s the last person since Dave that I dated enough times to lose track of how many times we went out.  Things were going along fine with Moe. 

Holy crapola.  I just remembered something really trippy.  I made this connection when I first started going out with Dave, but then I forgot about it.  Now it just seems really bizarre.  Let me tell you about Moe first.

I’ll skip over the details and get to the heart of the matter.  The reason I broke up with Moe was because he had a hard time “getting it up.”  Apparently he was on some kind of medication (gosh, this sounds familiar!).  I could have perhaps cut him some slack, since he was ultimately able to get it up.  The problem was that he had fetishes that he needed to “utilize”…to get it up.  He had two fetishes: hairy legs and smelly feet.

I have hairy legs.  I’m a feminist.  I hate shaving.  If waxing wasn’t so expensive, I’d do it regularly.  I shave about once a week or so in the summer to keep things from getting too out of hand, but I rarely shave in the winter time, except to weed wack my legs every few months for maintenance purposes.

Most guys I date don’t mind the hairy legs.  But the fact that Moe loved hairy legs seemed kind of inappropriate.  And smelly feet?  I just don’t have smelly feet.  I never have.  None of my shoes smell, even my old athletic shoes.  I guess it’s my body chemistry or my diet or something. 

Moe looked at online porn, too.  I’m not really into porn.  I guess it would be one thing if you watched porn and then were ready to properly (and of course, consensually) ravish me.  But if you watch porn, need my legs to be hairy, and have to put my toes up to your nose and inhale deeply to get hard, then that’s just over the top.

Dave, on the other hand, has a “strong preference” for shaved legs, which I find somewhat inconvenient.  He expects me to shave my legs.  I’m a busy woman.  I have better things to do than shave my freaking legs (which is probably somehwere close to half of the surface area of my ENTIRE body) every other day.  He also says painted toenails is a “turn on.”  The moment he told me that is when a red flag went up…I asked him if it was a fetish and he insisted it wasn’t.  But silly me, I painted my toenails.

I’m noticing a continuing theme here with Dave…a growing list of small things I’ve done to accomodate him…and although he’s definitely done some nice things for me, I can’t help but notice the imbalance.

The Sociopath Next Door

August 20, 2008

Fortunately, I moved.  You may be wondering what I’m talking about.

This morning, a coworker referenced the book The Sociopath Next Door, assuming I had never heard of it.  Not only had I heard of it, I have a copy of it.  I bought it a couple of years ago because it has a funny title.  I’m always curious about how sociopaths minds work and I had recently dated my next door neighbor, whom I suspected might be a sociopath.

I told her briefly about our relationship.  On our first date, he asked me what I thought about marriage.  I told him I was ambivalent about it.  He proceeded to tell me how he liked the idea of marriage.  Further into the relationship, he denied ever having said anything like that.  I later realized he was constantly lying about things, saying whatever he thought would get him what he wanted at the time.  We have long since broken up, but had maintained a friendship of sorts since we continued to be neighbors. 

When I finally completely got over him, realized how manipulative he had been, forgave him (for my own mental health), and had zero interest in ever dating him or anyone like him again, he regained a romantic interest in me.  I never told him I thought he was a sociopath.  Not that being a sociopath is as simple as being a liar, but what’s the point of confronting a liar about their lies?  They’ll just keep on lying.  And they will refine their game.  So, I never gave him that advantage.  I maintained a casual friendship for the sake of civility.

I was telling my coworker how he called me after I moved.  I ignored his phone calls and eventually he stopped calling.  But, strangely he called today.  His ears must have been ringing.  I didn’t recognize the number, so I didn’t answer it.  I was surprised to listen to the voice mail message and find it was him.

One of the takeaways from the book is that, as the title implies, there are sociopaths among us.  They are people without conscience.  They have learned to act like they care to maintain relationships, but they really don’t have the capacity to care.  My neighbor had been in a severe automobile accident and suffered from a closed head injury.  His behavior may have been a result of that.  Or maybe he has always been like that.  I’ll never know.  What I learned from that situation is to pay attention to people’s behavior – not just their words, but their actions as well.  Discrepancies between words and actions are a red flag.

Why I Don’t Use eHarmony

August 11, 2008

A couple of years ago, I tried out several dating web sites, including, eHarmony, and GreenSingles.  I used eHarmony for two, maybe three months.  At first, I was totally impressed by the accuracy of their personality profile.  It did a nice job of describing me and ‘summing me up.’

Then, I waited for them to match me up with someone.  I waited.  And waited.  And finally, they match me up with ‘Tony,’ who lives 200 miles away.  After graduating from ‘guided communication’ we finally talked on the phone.  Tony, according to his personality profile, was a subdued and quiet man.  Tony, on the phone, was quite a talker.  He talked…and talked…and talked.  We had nothing in common.  He lived 200 miles away.  I had no interest in ever talking to him again.  His personality profile was not accurate.  Apparently, he imagined himself to be a different person than he was.

Verdict: My actual self was compatible with his ideal self.

The last straw came soon after.  After some time passed, they matched me up with another person.  These matches are few and far between…apparently it takes time to come up with such high quality personality-based matches.  Did I mention eHarmony is kind of expensive?

Anyway, I’m reading through the profile of my long-awaited second match.  He seems fine until I get to the part where he lists his hobbies.  One of his hobbies is hunting.  Did I mention I am a vegetarian?  And that I love animals?  I was so offended…eHarmony matched me up with someone who enjoys killing animals for fun.  I wrote to their customer service department, but never received an adequate response.  I cancelled my membership.

Verdict: eHarmony is for carnivores.