Stop net jumping and concentrate on yourself.

Men, you can’t kill ‘em, so you either have to love them or leave them. I think this dilemma is what perpetuates so many romance novels. We authors are trying to imagine what it would be like to live with a strong, passionate man, who didn’t fart, belch and scratch his balls. I guess I should feel somewhat honored that these traits are things he reserves only for me and doesn’t do them in public. *lol* You realize these are things you never read in fiction.

I lived with my first husband for thirty-two years and thought I had an ideal marriage, until he found Jack Daniels more exciting than me. I don’t know which is worse, those who’ve had to contend with a mistress and feel the jealousy, or those who just lost to a bottle. Regardless, the feeling stinks. Something or someone else is more important than you. I took a lot of time and soul searching, but, I moved on and realized when I met my “now” husband, that I really was missing far more than I ever dreamed—a friend, a confidante and someone to share my feelings with. Okay, so he scratches balls, but he’s still there when I need him.

At the end of thirty-two years, I realized my ex kept his emotions bottled up. I had no idea after all that time what kind of things worried him, upset him, or even bugged him. Maybe that’s why he turned to Jack. Jack didn’t nag for answers, just soothed the pain and made things go away if only for a little while. I’ve always been a “fixer” in life, and that was an eye-opener for me. You know, you really can’t fix anyone but yourself. The desire to change has to come from the person themself. A very wise supervisor, who noticed my “fixing” trait, shared a saying that I still remember every day. “Life is like a tennis game. You can only play one side of the net at a time.” I can’t believe how many years I spent leaping from court to court. You’d think I would have lost weight in the meantime. 

Now, I’m on the other end of the spectrum. Hubby number two shares EVERYTHING. He’s a big dreamer with empty pockets, but that doesn’t stop him. If he had his way, we’d dump everything and everyone and be in the car on our way to… he hasn’t figured that out yet. I know every ache, pain, and itch about him. He’s not a baby, because he’s had some serious health issues (cornea transplants, crushed arm) and he never complained. He babies me when I’m sick, and he babies me when I’m well. I’m happy his former wife decided she didn’t want him anymore, because I’m certainly happy to have him in my life. One person’s ‘garbage’ is another person’s treasure, and I’ve certainly found a keeper in my Kelly.

Oh, I’m still friends with my first husband, and I will always love him. We share two wonderful sons together and lots of memories. I can even say that to Kelly, and he understands and is threatened by it. I feel sorry for my ex, because he made a decision that has left him a lonely, broken man. I wish I could have fixed him, but all we do is the best we can. I’ve put away the Band-Aids and my therapy couch. The only person I work on these days is me…and that’s a fulltime job.