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Hell Hath No Fury
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By WG Eggleton
Friday, July 20, 2007
Rated "G" by the Author.
Once upon a time we were happy. Or were we? Relationships and marriages take unusual turns. Could we end up here if we had ever been truly happy?
Once upon a time we were happy. Or were we? He was so nice looking, so popular, so confident, and so funny. Charming, thatís what he was. Thatís what I suppose he will always be, charming, to someone but not to me.
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That was so long ago. It all was so long ago and yet so vivid.
We were young and naÔve. Correction, I was naÔve. Bob was only young. I doubt he ever was naÔve. It was the typical story of the ugly duckling wallflower and the handsome hero of the school. Whether it was on a bet or out of pity, I never knew. He told me it was my eyes. Regardless of the reason, Bob set out to meet me, to charm me, and to win me. I soon learnt most anything Bob wanted he could get. I was no exception. Mind you, I could not believe my good fortune. I wasnít exactly a challenge.
However it happened we became an item. One no one understood, least of all me. Thatís when the stars began. I could see no further than my Bob.
It was not that I had been that unhappy or particularly lonely. I was one of the people on the outside. Never actually disliked just never quire remembered by the elite groups at school. I had a few friends, a happy family, and my drawing. But I had never had love, real or not. Now to have my Bob, I was dazzled completely. My Bob, all five feet eleven, soft brown hair, and deep laughing green eyes. I was in love helplessly. Not only helplessly, I was blind to my need for help. Genuine friends tried to show me. In return I banished them from my world. I knew there had been other girls before me. But there were none now, not in the world I saw. It isnít love that is blind; it is vanity.
Time proceeded and we continued. My stars outlasted many changes. My friends no longer seemed to exist. There were only Bobís friends. That is when I was with Bob. Otherwise there was only a distant politeness. What did I know? I thought it was the respect due Bobís girl. As I said I was naÔve. A more accurate word is dumb. Dumb, yet happy beyond imagination.
We continued and, much to my surprise, were wed. My life outdistanced my dreams. I worked in what was a ďnice little jobĒ. Bob started in a modest position with one company. It did not last long. Next he was in a less modest position in a larger firm. That too didnít last long. He was determined to succeed and to succeed fast. I neither doubted his decisions or his choices. As long as he was with me, I still had my stars. And he did seem to be with me.
We had no children. It was not a choice or a regret. It, like most facets of our relationship, was not discussed. It just happened. In retrospect, our burdens appear often to be blessings and our blessings show themselves as burdens.
Shortly after the move to the big house, it was decided that I would no longer work. We were having breakfast by the pool when Bob told me there was no further need for me to work. But I enjoyed working. It gave me something to do. I had been there for years by this time. It was comfortable and I was confident which was still an unusual emotion. Bob was insistent and I never argued. Not then, not ever.
The time lagged terribly at first. Bobís ideas were not for me. Tennis lessons, bridge clubs, charity work, lawn parties would make me into a directorís wife-hostess. The thought scared me. It revolted me. I was not a beautiful butterfly who could speak to anyone and I did not think I could learn to be one. Then I realized I didnít want to learn. That was the first time I became aware of my self-image. I finally had one. On closer look, I liked me. That felt good.
From then on, time was easy to fill. I did start taking lessons. Not tennis, art. I hadnít done any drawing since Bob had become my life. My interest had never totally left though and now I could draw and paint with no restrictions of time or money. We had a small studio built on the grounds. There I was free to indulge as I chose.
Bob also seemed more content now that I had a ďhobbyĒ. He liked the enthusiasm my art gave me. I think he even liking my paintings. More than that, he liked my being at home, easily available, and always reliable. Best part, I never had to be amused. After being charming and entertaining to all the people along the way, it was peaceful for him to come home to someone restful and undemanding. You see the combination of Bob and I no longer surprised me. I understood it.
Whether it was the new inner peace or it was being home at home more, I started to look around more objectively. It did not take long to discover Bob also had a hobby Ė Women.
- continued -
Site: Windy Gale Books
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|Reviewed by D Johnson
|good start, can't wait to see the follow-up.