Drained

It's been 5 weeks and 2 days.

Yes.  I keep count.

I loved her.  I'm sure of that.  I wouldn't have proposed if I didn't.  Right?

But I don't remember it.  The feeling of loving her.  I know I did, but I can't recall it.

I hate her.  I do.

I mean there is every reason someone wouldn't want to be married to me.  I'm overweight, I obsess over stuff, I smoke, I drink too much, I'm kind of an asshole.  But all of those things were true 4 plus years ago when she met me.  This didn't just happen.  So which thing was so awful that she had to up and fucking leave like that?

This was my second marriage.  Clearly, I'm not good at this.

When my first marriage ended, it was a year long process of arguing.  I don't even remember what over.  Just arguing.  And slow growing realization that it wasn't going to get better.  That we were heading in different directions and trying to deny that, especially on my part, was only making shit worse.  By the time I moved out, I had accepted the reality of the situation.

If this bitch, my second wife that is, had bothered to argue about whatever the fuck her issues were, I don''t know, but I'm thinking they could have been solved.   Or not.  Who knows?  She might.  I don't.

And for that, I hate her.

I don't walking around hating people.  It's not who I am.  This is new to me. But I do hate her.  In five weeks and change, I've forgotten what it felt like to love her and developed a clear burning hate for the kind of person who could lie to my face and say everything is fine and then vanish.

She vanished so hard that her father sent a letter to my address because he could not reach her by email or phone.  I thought about handing that letter over to the her lawyer, but I didn't.  It's not my problem to solve.  Sorry John, your daughter is crazy.

I'm not okay.  Not even a little bit.  And people are running out of sympathy.  I mean they still care, but it is getting uncomfortable.  They are looking for some sort of progress on my part.

There has been little progress.  I don't really eat much.  Food has lost its flavor.  I drink way too much.  Which is ironic, if I had to guess, me drinking is probably the reason she gave herself for leaving.

Me drinking 4 or 5 beers over the course of the evening and going to bed and snoring.  Not ideal, I'll admit, but that was nothing.

Over the last the few weeks, 5 and change to be precise, I've drank 10, 12 or more beers in sitting plus whiskey.  Drunk texted and facebooked everyone I've ever known.

I'm drowning myself in booze.  And I know it.

She thought I drank to much.

Shit.

Part of me knew something was wrong.  I felt her pulling back and drank a little extra to fill the void.

I know, not model behavior.

And now I have this ridiculous void and I can't fill it.

I'm angry.  I'm tired.  The few times I manage not to knock myself out, I can't sleep.

I can barely function and the world is expecting me to get past this and I don't know how.

I'm informed that both of us will have to be in court for the divorce hearing.  That will likely be the first time I see her since this shit has happened.  I'll have to sit there like an adult and respectfully answer what ever dumbass questions the judge thinks he has to ask to make this seem like a normal proper official thing.

But what I'll want to do is scream, "Fuck you!  How can you do this to me, my son, our friends?  What the fuck is wrong with you?"

But I won't.

And don't think I don't know how she'll be.  When presented with adversity, she must project poise.  She sit there and be calm and poised.

I hope that in her reality, the true one, the one she doesn't share with others, that she is filled with regret and cries all the fucking time.

I wish I could.  Cry that is.  That doesn't seem to happen either.

There is no moral to this story.  There is no point to it.

The world is expecting to me to start getting better.  And I'm going to have to start pretending I am.

But this is where I'll tell the truth.  I'm broken.  I've been through a lot of difficult things in my life.  And I know it's raw and recent, but I don't think I've ever been this thrown for a loop.  I've always at least been able to throw myself into work.

Friday, I sat at my desk and read articles about Comic Con and this disaster in the white house.  All day.  I attended a meeting, but that was it.  That is not me.  And this scares a little bit.  Who gave that bitch the right to break me and ruin my life?