I Should Have Known – Signs It’s Not Meant to Be
I should have known that my marriage was not going to last the first time I looked at the sleeping face of mr horrible, and I wanted to smother it with a pillow.
Why did I have this murderous impulse? Because he was drunk. And when mr horrible is hammered, the way he breathes when he is sleeping makes me want to pull out his hair. Or smother him with a pillow. It’s this annoying exhalation when he is so drunk that his flaccid lips flap as he breathes out. It is the MOST ANNOYING SOUND in the world.
More annoying than the annoying song on YouTube. I have never wanted to kill anyone when subjected to watching that video. I can’t say the same for the first time I lay in the bed next to mr horrible, me sober and he drunk off his ass, passed out on the bed.
Thinking back on it, there was never a time, not even when I thought I was blissful and in love, that the drunk breathing didn’t get to me. It wasn’t just that he was inebriated. I think it was more than the evidence of the depth of his inebriation, such that his facial muscles had gone limp. He was about as useful as wet bread. Those were long nights. Especially if the reason I was awake was that I waited up for him to return from his night out cavorting with his friends while I stayed home. Not considerate when I was pregnant, either alone or with a toddler and pregnant.
The inconsiderate behavior when he drove home drunk. Risking a DUI/DWI, risking his career in the military, and the financial stability of the family worried me and simultaneously filled me with rage. His unwillingness to acknowledge when he had had enough, or to quote the old commercial from TV, “Know when to say when“. He had no limits.
It was consume it all and then get in the car and drive home. Just because he didn’t get pulled over never made it right. It wasn’t any better if he stayed home to drink. Or if I were the designated driver. If I tried to caution him, he would drink more on purpose. The nights I had to suffer trying to fall asleep to the rhythmic irritation assailing my ears. I will never get those hours back.
The years of respite from the flaccid lip exhalation were the four years of sobriety in Virginia. The marriage should have (in retrospect) derailed for good before then. After the years in the godforsaken Garden State were once again haunted by the inhale, pause, flap of his labored breathing, as he lay on the bed, passed out from too many rum and Cokes.
Take note, people of the world. Those little quirks that ignite your inner rage fire are probably deal breakers. You should sit up and question yourself. Those little things will never go away. They should be the first thing you notice that makes you wonder if you really need to stay with this person, or if you’d be better off moving on.
It could be nothing, or it could be just the tip of the iceberg. It would be even better if these relationship-altering thoughts occur BEFORE you do something really life-changing like procreate with said asshole. Or marry them.
Please, learn from my example.
