The Bitch Won't Always Bitch

I promise.

I'm just getting a whole lot of venting off of my chest at the moment.

Because it's hard.

When you have to put a happy face on for overly sensitive children.

And for your mother, who lives with you.

And for your niece, who lives with you.

And for most of your friends and all of your family.


See, I learned a very valueable lesson from being married to Jack.

You and your spouse are a team.  You are a united front against the children and the rest of the world.  And there are very few people who need to know that your marriage isn't perfect.
Really it would be better if no one knew.

And it's not because you need this perfect image for everyone to see.

It's because there are not many people who can hear you tell all of your husband's deepest secrets and annoying habits, who can know about all of his weaknesses and still respect him.  No one is pretty under a microscope.

And even though today I would like to kick the living shit out of The White King and possibly bury him in the backyard, he is still my husband, and I need for everyone in my world to respect him.  And they won't if they know his every flaw.

Which is why Analogy Land is so fantabulous.

Because you guys don't know The White King, or Jack, or anyone else in my world.  Or at least if you do, you don't know that you do, and neither do I.  So I can get my venting out and off of my chest without ruining a reputation or a dozen.

And I need a weight lifted.  But once the load is a little lighter, I promise the bitch won't always bitch.

Queens Like Flowers Too

Seriously.  Why?

If someone can answer this question for me, I might give you my first born child in payment (of course if he’s behaving anything like he was last night, I would be getting the good deal).

I don’t really like to bitch about my husband all over the intranets, but seriously??

This is why we moved to Analogy Land.

In my first marriage, my then husband, Jack, refused to ever give me flowers.  And he knew that flowers were very important to me.  I want flowers growing all over my yard and in vases on every flat surface of my house at all times.  It makes me happy.

By the time we got divorced, I hadn’t had flowers in months.  And the last time I had flowers I got them because I handed him $20 and said, “Jack, go buy me flowers.  Now.” .

Enter the White King.  We were friends during the demise of my first marriage.  Very good friends.  The kind of friends who talk about flowers and irritating husbands and loud children and flowers.

He knew that I was not getting flowers from my husband and that it irritated the fuck out of me.  He consoled me on the lack of flowers in my marriage and tried to help me understand why my husband refused to give me flowers even when I begged.

Then we started dating.  And flowers were everywhere.  He planted them in my yard and his (so that I could be surrounded no matter where I was), and even when he was very sick, he still brought me flowers.  And if he couldn’t get out of the house and flowers weren’t blooming in the yard, he drew me pictures of flowers or made them out of napkins and paper.

But here we are 20 months or so into our marriage, and the flowers in the yard have all died in the cursed drought and he hasn’t brought any new ones home in 9 fucking months. 

There are no paper flowers, or napkin flowers, or drawings of flowers.  My house is completely flower-less.

And we’ve talked.  And I have looked at him, handed him $20 and said, “White King, get me some fucking flowers.  Now.”

There are still no flowers. 

What. The. Fuck??

Am I not worthy of flowers?  Is there something about me that screams, “Do not buy this woman flowers.”?

No idea. 

All I know is that I’m the fucking Queen and I’m getting flowers.  And if a certain White King knows what’s good for him, he will start buying some flowers.  Soon.