Redecorating With Red Flags

January 23rd, 2014

 

meme-mm-0007Ah, you never forget your first marriage…I was so young.  My first job post college, I worked for Toyota in their internet sales dept.  I was a fresh, 20 yr old wanting to change the world, wear adult suits and experience grown up things.  And there he was, my first adventure. A tall, black haired, blue-eyed ,well dressed, leader within the corporate structure.  He led in meetings, and had an accent, it was slight, but I studied him.  He was arrogant and shiny.  My fake ID, and a $500 bet over the consumption of a couple of 21 oz  F.U.B.A.R.’s were the perfect catalyst to my first set of nuptials.  Of course this epic romance begins with a bet over 42 ounces of pure alcohol.

We fucked a lot, and he was only my second lover.  God, I hate that word…lover.  We fucked in public, at work, everywhere and anytime.  The orgasm-hangover allowed me to easily disregard all the signs.  I was happy to redecorate my life with red flags.  He was significantly older.  Had previously been divorced two times, and was in a current marriage with the mother of their four children.

None of that mattered.  I loved him intensely.  He beat-up someone once that threatened me that was all that I needed to feel safe and know this relationship would last forever.  How fucking naive.  He was proud to have me on his arm, and I was happy to dangle there with the worrylessness that I had always yearned for.

We made money together.  We quickly created our own company and it flourished. Fast.  Fuck it was fast.  We made so. Much. Money. And the faster we made it, the quicker it killed us.  We bought more stuff. We partied harder.  Life was aesthetically great, but it needed to be greater.  So we started popping pills.  Ecstasy.  That’s where I thought it ended….but he went further.

Alimony, child support, ex wives, turbulence within the new company, in-law hate….flag, flag, flag, flag…”Oh, won’t those look great over there!”

Coke became his angry, secret friend.  We fought.  Sex became stale. Partying intensified.  Disaster recipe ingredients, check…then BAM…a glass ketchup bottle is angrily exploded over the back of my head.

A year before our marriage ended. Our marriage ended.

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