It was four years into our marriage, our daughter had just been born, and we were broke. My ex (husband still at the time), unbeknownst to me was not only blowing all our money on drugs, but he was also stealing money from the family business that he worked for and was blowing through that as well. No pun intended.
He was disappearing for days at a time and when he would come home, he would stumble through the door only to pass out in the middle of the wood floor, where I would find him in the morning when my alarm clock went off; the alarm clock that I would set so that I could get up and try to get him up for work. Most days “get him up for work” meant literally shoving him towards his truck after I had lost the battle of trying to get him to take a shower. Many days he would be sent home from work for “inappropriate attire” (aka, he was a filthy, disgusting, mess of a human being), and yet he wouldn’t actually come home, he would just simply disappear again and the cycle would continue.
Eventually my family decided to stage an intervention with him. Like an actual intervention.
Their concern had nothing to do with me or with him, but they were more concerned with what I call the “trickle effect.” They didn’t care about my husband or what he was doing to me, but if his behaviors were affecting the family business (that he worked for), well then that was a problem, because if it to the point where they could no longer employ him, well then we might become homeless and try to move in with them! (GASP)
So the intervention was set in motion. My father and brothers came over, and as I hung out on the sidelines, they waited for my ex to get home. When he came through the door they sat him down and told him how concerned they were, that they were here to help, and then they started to lay out a plan as to how they could fix him.
It was very reality-TV-ish and in my ex’s typical fashion, he sat there telling everyone why everything wrong in his life was someone else’s fault (mostly mine of course). All that did was cause my father (who was apparently too overbearing towards my ex) and brother (who was apparently mean to him at work) to continue to get more irritated with him.
Eventually everyone was yelling at each other and at the end of the intervention it was decided that my husband was simply just an irresponsible jerk.
What a surprise.
Now my ex, he didn’t usually care what anyone thought of him, but as the meeting disbanded and my family made their way out the door they began to laugh at me ex’s stupidity, and that hit a nerve with him.
Apparently you can hate him, but you cannot laugh at him.
Now from my end that actually seemed to work in my favor because over the course of the next few weeks, anytime I would bring up the topic of money he would tell me that he had a plan. It was supposedly a plan that was not only going to prove my family wrong, but was going to pay off big.
“Sure, sure ya do.”I would find myself thinking.
“What are we going to do, start stealing people’s recycling and selling it to the government directly? What plan could a man who can’t even bathe himself possible come up with?”
I didn’t have a clue, but whatever it was, he seemed pretty confident that it was our ticket to fame and fortune.
Instead of disappearing 7 nights a week, I would find him home one or two of those nights working on this “plan” in our office. For a while I was convinced that he was probably locked away in there playing video games and watching porn, but on several occasions as I pressed my ear to the door I could hear… typing. And paper rustling. And other sounds that I had never heard before in relation to him, but they sounded exactly like what I might have envisioned it would sound like if he were actually working.
Working? Him? Was that even possible?
I had no idea, but I was intrigued.
One day a couple of months later my ex called me from work and told me that tonight was the night. Tonight would be the night of the big unveiling, the night where I would finally be let in on the plan.
I dunno guys, but I was kind of excited. I mean I hadn’t seen him this involved in anything that wasn’t a woman who wasn’t me, a hypodermic needle, or fabricating a lie, in a really, really, long time, so whatever this was, it must be good!
I put my daughter to bed early, made a nice dinner, my ex and I actually ate together (gasp!) before he led me to the couch and asked me to wait there a minute, he needed to get his presentation.
PRESENTATION.
You guys, at that point I was pretty sure that he was just momentarily leaving the room to let The Publishers Clearing House people in, because I was under the impression that I was about to hit the jackpot.
There was a presentation!
Unfortunately he was the only one who came back into the room and I’m sad to say that he was not carrying an oversized cardboard check containing a beautiful amount of zeros, but what he was holding was a poster board, complete with diagrams, and a spread sheet glued onto it.
HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?
Who the hell stole his
DNA off of a supposedly recycled soda can and made a clone out of my husband? Clearly this is not my husband and I would like to find that clone maker and have crazy thank-you sex with whoever has delivered this new and improved version of him.
So the husband clone starts out his PRESENTATION and I was nothing short of astonished. It had start-up costs, long term projection goals, etc, etc, and while that was all wonderful and great, I still had no clue what the actual idea was.
“Uh… so what is it? Like what is the business? Are we selling something? Making something? Providing a service of some kind? Investing in lotto tickets? Selling our kidneys?” I rambled off as I eagerly awaited the moment when I would learn how we were going to become rich.
“SSSHHHH I WILL GET TO THAT” was sternly whispered in my direction.
Ok geez, I will not interrupt the miracle that is unfolding before my eyes; apparently miracles are very testy.
So I waited, and I waited, and I waited, and he talked, and he talked, and he talked, and eventually when I could no longer contain myself anymore I burst out with “BUT WHAT IS THE BUSINESS!?”
“Ok. Fine. Now just remember, be open minded. Just trust me, this is going to work. I got the idea from a late night infomercial.”
Wonderful, we were about to start selling sex toys.
“Ok. Ok. Ok.” he stammers out. “Now what I was thinking was that I can set the shop up in the garage. I’ll order all the supplies and you and I can form a sort of production team. I’ll make the product and sell it online, and then you take it to the post office and ship it. Oh and you collect the payments.”
Oh. We are making it in the garage and you are going to make me responsible for the transport of the goods and the financial transactions?
Apparently we are opening a meth lab and we wants me to be the dealer.
“Seriously, what the hell are we making because I have a clean criminal record and I’d like to keep it that way” I said.
“Ok. But remember. Be open minded” he replied.
I AM BEING FUCKING OPEN MINDED NOW WHAT KIND OF DRUGS ARE WE SELLING?
“Scented lotion”he said.
“Yep, I knew it, we are cooking meth!!” I thought. Wait… WHAT?
Back up the truck.
My brain had no idea what language we were suddenly speaking, but I had just heard something I couldn’t even begin to understand. “Sccceeeennnnttttteeeeeddddd looootttiiiooonnnn?” I asked very slowly, as I tried to figure out what kind of drug had the street name “scented lotion.”
“Yes, scented lotions”he stated.
“OH HA HA HA, ya got me there, very funny, now really, what are we selling?” I asked again.
“Scented lotion” he replied. Again.
“Like bath salts? Like the street drug bath salts?” I inquired, still trying to figure out what my completely irresponsible drug addict of a husband was talking about.
“No, like actual scented lotion. For your skin” said my ex. “I can buy all the supplies online and then we can mix up our own scents and sell them on Ebay.”
And then I lost it.
I don’t know why, but I absolutely lost my fucking mind. I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t trying to be rude to him, it was more like I had a mental break down where I started laughing, and then it turned into a strange maniacal cackle where I almost could not catch my breath. I mean I just could not stop! But really, come on now, in my defense how absolutely absurd is this situation? My drug addicted, abusive, thief of a husband, who disappears for days on end, rarely makes it to work, and who hasn’t showered in 9 days, wants to open up a Bath and Body Works in the garage?
Who would take that seriously?
Not me, that’s for sure.
“Oh hello wife, I’m sorry that I’ve been gone for 11 days because I was lying in a crack house somewhere, but I just popped home to whip up a quick batch of the gingerbread body butter for the Christmas sale.”
When I was finally able to catch my breath, stop laughing, had wiped the tears from my cheeks, I said “Uh, yea, I think I’m going to have a problem investing $6k into your garage lotion shop, because I know I would be the one who ends up running this whole thing, and I’m not sure who on Ebay is going to seek out ‘Eden’s garage lotion’ as a Christmas present in the middle of a recession.”
He was not pleased.
He flipped out, started throwing his display props around, slapped me across the face, called me an unsupportive bitch, and then stormed out of the house— slaming the door so hard that a picture fell off the wall.
Hum… I guess that wasn’t a clone after all.
My bad.
But seriously, come on now. If you can’t even figure out how bad you smell, I’m certainly not trusting you to run a fragrance shop.
So that was the beginning and the end of the garage lotion shop, a company that almost got up and running, but never did.
Like that would have ever happened.
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Photo Credits
Angry Boy
Chill Baby
Chairs
Little Girl
It's amazing how addicts “see” (or “project onto,” whichever) everyone else so clearly, but cannot bear to look at themselves. Maybe you should have gone for it, Eden! Maybe Eden's Garage Lotion would be a huge hit right now!!!
When I was 10 my father wanted to start a business selling homemade knitted animals.Nobody in the family knew how to knit. This was before the magic that is YouTube. This was actually before the magic that was internet in the home. We had a computer that I typed my homework on, and maybe it went online…kind of. It was 1995, after all. But I know for a fact we didn't have one of those America Online discs with 1000 free hours!!!!! so I'm pretty sure we didn't have internet.”We can walk to the library. You can learn to knit and crochet and make the animals and I'll sell them to my coworkers!”Thanks, dad. You're putting your 10-year-old to make freaking knitted/crocheted animals that you can sell. He was not too pleased when I informed him I was in no way interested in learning how to knit or crochet and may I please instead go outside and swing on the tire swing?
So… what you’re saying is that I can’t order a knitted stuffed animal from you?
Damn. Was probably going to get two.
Okay, this makes a lot more sense now. Who else would employ a really screwed up person like your ex except OTHER REALLY SCREWED UP PEOPLE?It sucks because I could see this same thing happen in my family. They think they're helping by giving him a job, because Irish Family Business or something. But then they realize they're going to look like enablers, all of a sudden there's a problem! Your dad probably did this a lot with your mom too, I'd imagine? “As long as we don't ruin that “perfect” family image, everything's fine!”Seriously, Eden. That was really one giant mess you walked away from.
Haha, right? No one else would have hired him.
Irish family business!!
There should be a support group just for that
I think you were rude to him by laughing at his face. Not on his side at all but it was rude.
Did you miss the part about him raping and beating her? Why the hell should she be on his side at all? He is a complete piece of shit, why in the world should she support him at all?What is wrong with you???
Like I said I am not on his side! And she souldnt be also. But if she saw what kind of man he was she should leave him long time ago and not to have children with him…
Oh my gosh, you just keep getting dumber. Really, have you even read this blog? She tried to leave, many times. it's people like you who have absolutely no understanding of how difficult it is to get out of that situation who make problems for everyone else. She wanted to leave and her family kept pushing her back to her husband. If you have no money or job or family how would you leave? Where would you go? And if you had read this blog you would know her husband was raping her, which is exactly how many children are conceived in abuse.Stop being so judgmental
Oh man, you have to live your life and stop wasteing your time attackig other people on someones blog. I read maybe 2 stories that apiered on yahoo and thats it. Dont know her life story and dont want to know. Please just leave me alone.
Haha! Sure Nadezda, you don't know her life and don't want to, you just want to come on here and complain about how she isn't living it right.You don't think people should waste their time coming on blogs and attacking people? Then why are you coming on a blog to judge someone?Take a look in the mirror sweetie. You want to be left alone? Stop inserting yourself where you don't belong.
Uh… I didn't see anyone attacking you Naz. I pointed out the flaws in your reasoning. If you can't handle that, then don't do it to other people.
You're right Ashley , I certainly do not belong here… 😉 Peace
Wow, does the air suddenly feel fresher In here?
lol! I think it's because the stink of self righteousness has left the room. The sad thing is, I guarantee you that she will walk away from this feeling like she was a bully victim and having absolutely no self reflection on what she's done
I don't know why my comment posted as a new comment instead of reply here
Was it really such a crazy idea, though? I mean…if anyone else had proposed it, would it have sounded so ridiculous to you?
Possibly , but that wasn’t the crazy part. The crazy part was, it WAS him.