This toaster has been with me since August 19, 1988. The brand name is worn off, it has stains, you have to push hard for the basket to go down and if you don’t pay attention and give the handle a push it burns the edges of your toast. But it still works, it is still in my cabinet ready for whatever I decide to do with it. Ready, willing, and always there.
In 1988 I married a dumbass even though my large cat, TuTu said not too. The first time he met John he hiked his big leg and pissed on his boots, growled, and walked down the hall looking like he was satisfied that he had gotten his message communicated. It wasn’t a love story; we were just great friends who enjoyed time together. It lasted 12 years, was good for about 4. I’ve heard all the excuses, “I was just looking” “we didn’t do anything but talk” “she is just a friend” “I was feeling neglected” “I can’t make you happy” “you would be better off with someone else” “I’m not safe”, blah, blah, blah. The first time I found photos of him, and a woman named Heather in his briefcase, he said that while on a business trip the guys went out and she was just a friend of Dale’s girlfriend. “Nothing happened”. I supposed that because “nothing happened she felt the need to write him letters about the night “nothing happened” and he accidently ran into her several times with Dale while in Canada. With his penis.
My ex-jackass once told me in a fit of rage that I was the default choice. He and a friend, Rob visited my lab one day for a lunch date and he met a coworker, Deanna, a short, big boobed red head with a sassy personality and a curvy loose ass. He said that she was his type but since “he wasn’t good enough for her type, I was the runner up”. This kind of info makes your 2rd anniversary memorable.
The last one was a good story. His sweet father, one of the nicest men you’ll ever meet, was battling a brain tumor and had about 6 months left on earth. He was flying back and forth from NC to Seattle “to see Papa” and I was ok with it because I loved his Papa. He visited his father once, but he visited an “old family friend he grew up with” named Rosa every other weekend for 6 months and eventually knocked her up. She was also a writer, tacky little cards describing their “dates” in detail that I really didn’t need to see where she called his junk by the stupid name he had given it and there ya go…another accidental running into someone with you guessed it…..his penis. Looking back, I realize I was more angry about him neglecting his wonderful father then I was about his “accidental” penis wandering. I was bored, unhappy and had accepted that I was in the wrong place with the wrong person. And I had reached my limit.
On an October day I tried my best to talk to the jackass and let him know what I was going to do but he kept turning the volume up on his new 52-inch picture in picture monstrosity and kept ducking left and right to see the screen, so I took a baseball bat and ended the life of his new $2000 tv and walked out. He loved those damn tv’s and had a stupid tv in every room. It was so odd; they were always on and if I turned one off, he would literally sense it. He even had a handheld battery-operated little thing in the car. One day he was out mowing grass and I turned off the small one in the kitchen and from the yard, he yelled “I was watching that!” It was reasonable that killing his beloved tv would get his attention, at least for a few minutes, but he just hugged it and screamed because he couldn’t resuscitate it and that it COST THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS. So I dropped the bat, picked up the remote from the Cerwin Vega speaker and handed it to him as I left. I still have the bat, it is leaning against the wall behind my front door as we speak. It has been with me as long as my toaster.
Two days later Mr. Jackass was cut off in traffic, got out of his vehicle, put his hand through a woman’s windshield and threatened to beat her stupid in front of her two kids and who did he call for bail? Hahahaha. Nope. It was his first arrest and hopefully his last, he blamed his anger issues on me for killing his tv. He asked to “talk”, so we met for lunch where he begged me to come back and I sort of thought about it, mostly because I missed my dog and my stupid convertible. I went back to the house to get some things and while looking for a screwdriver in a toolbox, found a stack of ohhhhhh I love doing this to you, and I thought of how we this all-night cards from Rosa. I never told him that I found his stash but that was the day I decided I was done and typically when I dismiss someone or something, I don’t look backwards when I am walking.
We had some good times but looking back, he was a very selfish person, my choice, my way, my this, my that, I want this, I want that, and in the end, he ended up with all the crap, we had gathered over 12 years. During our separation agreement meeting he had reasons for wanting things, even things he had never used. Suddenly the rice cooker and crock pot were important, and he wanted to argue over everything so to end the stupid meeting I said, I’ll take my truck, dog, and personals that I had before we married, the rest he can have, and suddenly the jackass wanted to argue over why I didn’t want to argue over things. NC makes you wait a very long year before divorce, I didn’t speak much to or with him during that year and the last time I saw him in person was in court signing the final papers. My divorce attorney was fabulous, her name was Colonel Stamp Martin-Curtis and she wanted to tear him apart. She did her damn best to convince me to go for alimony, payment of all the credit cards he had racked up in my name, payment for this and that, and a portion of his retirement for life but I was done. Looking back, I was an idiot, back then I simply did not want a connection, I didn’t want to see his name on checks or have conversations and I just wanted a complete disconnection. I should have taken the money and went for every penny. He according to mutual friends, repeated this entire process with wives 3,4, and 5.
Many young girls have hope for a bright future, always searching for some wonderful man to spend your days with. Someone who makes your heart happy. The problem is that men overcomplicate what they think we want, they make themselves go stupid with misguided goals and ruin what could have been something wonderful. I’m actually very easy. I just want someone to love me like I love my dog. My dog is always happy to see me, he brings me his toy as a way of showing that he wants to please, he is warm, loving, cuddly, attentive, and protective. He listens. He loves simple walks and fun days outside. He likes to snuggle on warm days, and when I am sad or feel ill, he gives me comforting kisses. Never has my dog told me that I was a runner up, or unattractive. My dog looks at me like I am the most wonderful person in the world.
We live in a world where you can give all you have internally to someone, and it is never enough. Stick by them during their stupid times, their sick times, deal with their “demons”, accept their shortcomings and their talents, make them their favorite dishes, enjoy vacations, and celebrate holidays and they still end up finding that “me shit”. Our world today finds it acceptable to discard someone and find a temporary replacement at will, social media, tv, movies, even friends promote it.
When I was a little girl, I spent my summers in Louisiana. One of my favorite places to visit was my Aunt & Uncle’s place. They had kids, a big garden, a house in the country, a front porch, a swing, dogs, cats, and a table that always seemed to be the place for breakfast, lunch and dinner filled with homecooked food and laughter. To me they were rich! It appeared they had it all, family, food, a home, love, and laughter. The reality is they were not money wealthy, they were just a country couple, raising a family with love and doing it together. My Uncle and Aunt were married young and were together from youth to old age, he was there when she died. He wasn’t off “exploring” “working” or “living his life” he was there.
And now looking back, I see I was right, they were rich. They had a warm kitchen, babies who grew into beautiful adults who gave them grandchildren, amazing pot roast and farm fresh vegetables. They had kids who played in the woods, out in the garden, rode horses, bicycled to the store and stayed out all day until dinner, kids who snuck out at midnight to play kick the can, have bottle rocket wars in fields, and cousins who loved visiting in summer. They had a simple country home with a front porch that needed repairs and not enough space, but they made it work, and they had family vacations with loads of kids squished into one car for road trips. I wanted to grow up and be just like my aunt and uncle.
I made breakfast this morning with my trusty toaster. My dog and I enjoyed toast and I of course had too many cups of coffee. The house is quiet, or was, now he is snoring, and I can hear the tapping of my fingers on my keyboards and the sound of the wind. What I wouldn’t give to go back to being that little girl at my aunt and uncle’s place, complaining about too much noise, the heat of summer, Bubba’s teasing or getting bitten by a very mean Alkaseltzer (German shepherd). I’d love one more family dinner and my aunt’s pot roast and all the complaining and teasing that went along with those wonderful dinners. I can see the built-in bookshelves to the right of the table and the doorway that leads to the rarely used living room, the small eat in kitchen, the screen door, small round kitchen table, long dining room table, the entryway to the washer and dryer and the little shelves above the small kitchen sink. And I can see my uncle at the head of the table and my aunt to his left. Together.
I think I’ll take my dog for a walk and maybe I’ll carry my toaster along with us, it has been in many countries and many states but I don’t think I’ve ever taken it for a walk.
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