Marriage Hell: You Have A Tiny Penis & You Suck In Bed

In case you missed it, I was married to a highly functioning, raging alcoholic who was verbally and emotionally abusive. And on the eve of my cancer diagnosis, I finally had enough and left him for good.

Throughout our marriage, our typical fighting pattern went like this: my ex would get drunk (or want to get drunk) and scream at me in that horrid pitch that only he can reach. Ninety percent of the time, I’d walk away. After all, arguing with a drunk is pointless. But that would never be good enough for him. He’d follow me around the house. Sometimes I’d say something like, “I’m walking away from you. Go away.” In which case he’d respond by screaming some more with this crazed, glazed look in his eyes. If it was a weekend, I’d pack up the girls and me and go stay in a hotel or stay with my best friends in Long Beach before coming back. And then my ex would start texting or emailing me horrible messages, which I’d ignore for a day or two. And then I’d start responding. It would take two to four days before he would calm down enough and apologize for his ridiculous behavior and promise to go to help with his drinking problem. And, of course, that would never happen. He’d say he was at an AA meeting when, in fact, he was drinking at the San Diego Brewing Co instead. 

My ex always accused me of having a huge temper. I can honestly say that I deserve a medal for the most part for ignoring his stupid behavior. Until I didn’t. That one out of 10 times that I decided to fight back got ugly because I was ready to defend myself (finally) with every ounce of energy I had.

So this time I told him what I really thought about him but always had the somewhat good sense beforehand to not say. Because this time, I wanted to finish the marriage, make him hate me enough that he would never attempt to come back. I wanted him gone forever. So I told him the following:

You have the smallest penis ever

You suck in bed

You’re beer belly is disgusting 

I never loved you (true statement)
When I met my ex, he was simply a guy to hang out with while I tried to mend my shattered heart from a prior relationship. He was really good at selling himself as a good, honest, sweet guy who simply had been terrorized by his ex wife who never appreciated what a great guy he really was. He seemed innocent and kind and helpful. He was great with my daughter and good to me. This is what he does– when there’s an audience, he’s “on it”. And he was aggressively pursuing me. When we purchased our home and got married, I didn’t love him at all. I liked and respected him and thought we could have a good future together as companions and parents. The problem was, he is none of the things he portrays himself to be. And once I figured that out, ever learning to love him was impossible.

I cheated on you (not true)
I told my ex that I cheated on him with my ex boyfriend Tom. I knew this would cut through his heart. His ex-wife had an affair when they were married and it had traumatized him. I told him that I cheated on him and his next wife would cheat on him, too, because he was a horrible husband. Well, that part is true. He is a horrible partner. Unpredictable, volatile, a liar, a hair trigger temper, mean and lazy. But I never cheated on him. 

There! Now I knew he’d never come back. I finally poured gasoline on top of my marriage, lit a match, and watched it burn.

And so it was that my texts finally matched my ex’s in evilness. I can’t say it made me feel better but there was something sadly empowering about no longer keeping my mouth shut. Here I was, entering treatment for cancer– downing some 30 pills per day, getting blood transfusions and platelets, undergoing another painful biopsy without any medications– and at the same time, receiving texts from the Great (Alcoholic) that accused me of being a thief and a liar… And I at least was finding the strength to fight back. Somewhere in my reserves of fear and exhaustion and shock and horror about my health, I could at least fight him where it hurt him the most. Literally, below the belt.

And yet, after several weeks of this, it served no purpose but to make me sadder than ever. I had jumped into the Rob cesspool and it was not a pretty or comfortable place to be. I wasn’t proud of it. I didn’t want to fight like that. I was not the person I wanted to be.

Lesson learned?
So what did I learn from this? For me, when I feel cornered like a wounded animal, I fight back. Actually, I don’t fight back for awhile, hoping that I’ll find an out. Hoping that my logic will prevail over something more primitive in all of us. But I’m human and eventually I’ll come out swinging. I did this throughout my entire relationship. And it is not the person I want to be. It is not the way I want to handle conflict. Logically speaking, you can’t argue with a drunk. There is no point and no one will ever win. I wish I could use the logical part of my brain always.

The sad truth is that I believed so strongly in my commitment to MARRIAGE, in my sense of duty to family, and the hope I had that my ex would become the man that he tried to portray himself to be initially, that I stayed. I will never do that again.