Getting married seemed like a good idea in 1992 and the second, third and fourth years of the marriage were enjoyable. The first year was full of fights, half of which I will take the blame for. I would guess that the first year of most marriages are rough, especially if the two individuals have not lived together before.
The trouble started when my wife had difficulty becoming pregnant. I had wanted to wait to start our family until we had our finances in order but I married someone that is even worse at managing money than I am. Once it became clear that our finances were never going to be in order, I stopped using condoms. Month after month, my wife would break down crying because she wasn’t pregnant yet. She blamed me, claiming that I had ejaculated all of my good seed before we met. I had to go to a clinic and have my sperm tested, and I passed the test. If I had failed, she told me that she would leave me for a man with healthy sperm. The pregnancy troubles brought to light a fact that troubled me. She did not love me. I was only a tool, a seed hose. She had herself checked out by a reproductive doctor and it turns out that she has scar tissue in her reproductive organs. It was only after she gave up hope of ever getting pregnant that she did. It was probably the stress of her wanting to get pregnant so badly that was causing it not to happen.
Once she was pregnant, our social life came to a screeching halt. My favorite thing to do is go to see live music, but now she refused to go to any clubs. I lost my concert buddy. I thought that this was only temporary and that we would rejoin society after childbirth but she crushed that idea quickly. She confessed that she had never liked going to see shows with me. She did not like the music I like, and did not care much for the rest of the things I like too. She had only been “Faking” enjoyment so that I would love her.
Having a newborn in the house will cause problems in every marriage, and my marriage was built on the lies that she had been telling. To add to the stress, I quit the job I had at the bank that we both worked at and started working for the USPS. She hated this idea, and told me that I was an embarrassment to her. She married the suit, not the guy who was wearing it.
Why do I still live with the woman that admitted to hating me 16 years ago? It was an ugly fight and she shouted those words, “I hate you” into my face. I was so hurt that I told her to repeat them, so that I knew our love was done. I had never felt her love as strongly as I felt that hate.
I promised my son, on the day he was born, that I would always be here for him. I know that he was only an infant and did not understand the words, but what matters most is that I know I made that promise. He did not pick the asshole that is mother. She was my mistake.
We will live together, the three of us, until my son finishes high school and is ready to start a life of his own. There is love between my son and I, and him and his mother. Too bad it does not go full circle. I do not argue much with her, because there is no emotion. I should hate her, since she hates me, but I do not. I wish her the best and hope that she has a happy life but I do not plan to be much of a part in it.