Damn My Ex 

my ex, marie, was an absolute bitch.  she thought of no one but herself, and didn’t hesitate to make others do work that she was perfectly capable of doing.

so we’re all at Lenny’s, the 24-hour diner.  like 8 or 9 of us.  marie orders the chili cheese fries.  it comes out, and the bacon is sitting right on top.  whole.  in strips.  no one thinks anything of it.  we’re talking, laughing, and smoking like normal, and marie waves down the waitress.

“my bacon isn’t crumbled.’” the poor waitress looks at us, like, “is she for real?”  we’re just like “yes, she is, and she’s not with us.  please don’t spit in our food.”

yep.  marie made her take the appetizer back, have the cooks remake it, and bring a new one.  bitch.

marie refused to eat mac n’ cheese. REFUSED. i thought she just didn’t like it.  after all, this was a woman who claimed to be lactose intolerant so she wouldn’t have to drink milk, but could easily down an entire cheesecake by herself.

nope.  turns out, she had a babysitter or something who would make mac n’ cheese and then make her watch pippi longstocking, and marie didn’t like the movie.  my thought is, okay, don’t watch the flick!  no, poor, poor, marie just refused to eat mac n’ cheese instead. (of course, every time she saw it, heard someone mention it, or even thought of it, she just had to go over the whole damn story like you had never heard it before)

so after four years of engagement, john tells me i was really just a roommate to him.

he made me pay for half of everything.  he wouldn’t let me go back to school for a degree, said i couldn’t afford it, so i worked lousy jobs for very little $$$ just so i could pay my half of the rent and utilities, but he could go out to eat four times a week.  he had a secret porn stash. he had a secret p.o. box so he could get his videos.  he was a nurse that made more than i ever could.   he had cable, which i couldn’t watch since he paid the whole bill.  he drove a brand new car.  he knocked my up three times and stressed me out so bad i miscarried them all.  i got all hell from my family for dating a black guy.  I chose him over them for “love”.

i could just see the ad he placed to help with the bills:

WANTED: 22 year old SWF, 5′ 4″, 110 pounds, DD-cups a plus to share a bed with.  rent is 50% of mortgage.  utilities split 50/50.  Must be willing to turn life upside down for me with little to no love or romance in return.  Those who have self-respect or want to improve themselves need not respond.

i (finally) kicked my ex out.  she ended up moving in with my mom for a while (that’s a different story), but at least i didn’t have to smell her foul ass anymore.

my best friend, bill, ended up moving in, but before he could, we had to clean marie’s old room.  it took bill 4 days and 24 30-gallon trash bags to empty the thing.  we found rotten food under her bed, empty bags of cookies, empty boxes of gooey butter cake (she ate them two at a time), and tons of ants.

my landlord got mad at me for filling the dumpster-twice.

i will say the apartment smelled so much better with her gone.

a few weeks after getting married, i asked my then wife, marie, if she could do something for me while i was at work.  i don’t remember what now, but trust me, it was trivial.

i come home, and after relaxing for a bit, i ask if she did whatever the hell it was i had asked her to do.

“no”

“why not?”

“i’m not your slave”

“understood, but you said you would”

Pay attention to her reply: “if it was my word to give, then it’s my word to take back”

shortly after getting married, my mom took us out to eat.  no place fancy, but a big deal for my mom.

this place had a jar of suckers (lollipops) in the lobby.  i asked my wife of less than two weeks what color she wanted.  she got purple; i got red.  she put them in her purse, no big deal, right?

next day or so, i ask for my sucker.  her: “they were both in my purse, so they were both mine.”

through the ensuing argument i learned that:

• anything in her purse is hers
• i have no right to anything in her purse
• if i wanted the other sucker, i shouldn’t have let her put it in her purse
• it shouldn’t have bothered me anyway. it’s just a sucker (and apparently, so am i)

my ex-wife, marie, loved purple.  unfortunately, she was also the oldest six year old i have ever met.

we used to hang out at a friend’s house almost nightly.  marie notes their dinnerware’s colors.  dark mediterranean tones: dark mustard, deep blue, burgundy red, dark jade green, and, you guessed it, dark purple.  lisa, the woman of the house, says marie can use the purple plates anytime she eats there.

fast-forward three or four months.  i’m @ work; marie is over for dinner.  lisa hands out the dishes, giving renee the purple one. marie throws a full-blown temper tantrum.  right in the formal dining room.  accusing lisa of lying and playing favorites.

thank god i was not there.  moral of the story:  never marry an immature person!