With relationships, I do find it difficult to comprehend how any man could go through this mental anguish, the consensus would be that he was just some wimp or fool who was overcome by his little head and thereby write it off as some lesson that had to be learned..
I can remember a few years ago as I was sitting in a posh restaurant with my brother and his wife on Hamilton Island, both have multiple degrees and regarded as upwardly mobile. They had no illusion where they stood as far as their relationship was concerned. My brother commented to his wife (Aus/Asian) "you're just a f*cking bitch", to which she responded "at least I am not a bastard like you", which was a response to some comment that I did not hear. It was refreshing to witness that he did not worship the ground she walked on even though she was a stunner..(still married after 20 years). Both comments were made quietly and both were composed and I was astounded but amused..
Someone asked me a few years ago about why men don't cry at the drop of a hat like women do. I told her that if a man cried that would indicate that his pain was so severe that he was unable or incapable of keeping that pain from surfacing. A man's pain far exceeds that of a woman as it is their penchant to find release by "sharing" every sordid detail with the girlfriend who in some cases ends up being even more depressed than the original complainer..
So, to hear stories like this is a good way to demonstrate that you are not alone if you are going through a similar relationship and there will come a time when you will just have to make that inevitable decision that she is just not worth the pain and suffering and it time to move on..
I didn't know Zsa Zsa Gabor had a sense of humour..
"I am a marvelous housekeeper. Every time I leave a man I keep his house." -- Zsa Zsa Gabor
The Story Of "Bucket", My Ex-Wife
Written By BigRMany years ago, I worked as the manger of a fast food chain. My life seemed to be going nowhere. Not only was the area I was living in economically depressed (and depressing) but it was a haven for the worst kind of nasty, ugly women in the world. I knew I had to get out, so I quit my dead-end job. No sooner had I done this, than I ended up in an argument with my father over his truck. My mother also berated me. So, I packed up my bags, loaded up my belongings into my car and headed towards oblivion. I had pissed off my parents, no job, a mountain of depression to deal with and yet a feeling of tremendous relief came over me as I left that shithole behind.I wandered eastward to Portland, Oregon and from there to Denver, Colorado. I aimed to get my life together, and perhaps meet a woman in the process - surely wherever I settled, they couldn't be as bad as the ones back home! For a time that thought worked, and I settled for a town in the Rocky Mountains called Glenwood Springs. I rolled in and immidiately started to look for work. It didn't take long to find, and after one month I had my own apartment - my first one ever! I was impressed with what I had achieved on my own. I noticed that with the change in territory came a change in the women. They were friendly, but I lacked the confidence to approach them. In fact, I was afraid to even talk to them. All interaction was strictly business only – the horrors of trying to date in my home town had taught me that I was not popular with women.
One day, a good looking girl walked into the store I managed in Glenwood Springs. I'd rate her about a 7 or 8. I definitely noticed her, but didn't expect to see her again. At about 10pm that evening, I was sitting in my car after closing up the store, when I was surprised to see the same girl from earlier. She was with a friend, and they were walking towards my car. I did not look at them, but just stared ahead and started messing with my stereo. Then there came a knock at the window. I was speechless! I had no idea why I had suddenly become so interesting, so I figured I'd just get rid of the girls by asking them back to my place – this had always worked back home. I'd ask them over to my place, they would say no and that would be the end of it. To my shock, they said yes. They got in the front seat, and I found myself setting next to my "dream girl". Her name was the Spanish word for "Bucket". We went and bought some beers and talked the night away in my apartment.
The relationship was on, and I was happy. We would talk for hours, and the sex was amazing. This however, always seems to be the pattern for mentally disturbed women. After about a month, however, she moved away with her family. I found myself unable to handle her absence. I ended up following her to Los Angeles to be together with her again. I called “Bucket” on the phone and she seemed happy that I had arrived. As I pulled up to the entrance to her neighborhood, I was surprised to see her with 2 other guys in a pickup. This was to be a warning of things to come. Still, she hopped into my car and we picked up where we'd left off. It was a whirlwind romance, and in two months we were married.
The two of us returned to Portland to settle in to new jobs and to start life anew, but things did not work out the way I had planned. After only six months, and working long hours, I decided to pull my truck into the apartment "Bucket" and I shared prior to starting my second shift for the night. I was tired and beaten, and I wanted to see my wife. But, as I opened the door to our apartment and walked inside, I saw my couch awash with another man's clothes. My heart sunk. I found her in the pool, surrounded by three guys all having what looked like a pretty good time.
I was devastated. What had I done wrong? Maybe I wasn’t good enough for her? Maybe I didn't work hard enough? I punished myself for what had happened, convinced it was somehow all my fault. I tried to do what I thought was "the right thing", and made up with my wife. I was sure that if I just tried harder, she'd be faithful to me. Sadly, the next 12 years turned into a cycle of parties and cheating, parties and cheating. I got used to it. Her unfaithfulness almost drove me to suicide several time. Sometimes "Bucket" wouldn’t come home till 10 in the morning, and there always seemed to be something worse waiting for me around the corner.
“Bucket” would always say things to me like, "you don’t love me because you wont take me out", and yet when I did, she would always leave me standing at the bar while she went off to try and seduce other men. At times she would make out with them in front of me. Was she trying to provoke a reaction from me? I don't know.
It was at about the 10 year mark in our marriage that my wife told me she had 7 different personalities. That really got my attention. I began to feel like I was living with Lizzie Borden the axe murderer. The only way I felt I would be able to survive the insanity was to turn my wife's crazy behavior around on her. All the lying, cheating, drama and something I now refer to as "a cloud of coercion" enveloped me. I decided that the only way to show her how wrong she was was to go and find another woman to be with.
For four months, I went by myself to a place called "Tucantinas" to grab a few drinks. I would often leave with other women and rent out a room at a motel for the night. One night though, something happened - I met a latina girl who, for the first time in a long time, treated me as if I actually mattered, and we began a real relationship. When "Bucket" found out I was having an affair on the side, all hell broke loose. She had been doing it for years, but when it came to her turn, she wasn't able to handle it The fight was immense, but it saved me from wanting to kill the evil bitch with my bare hands. I left her cold, and I realised that I had won. I wasn't going to go to jail for the rest of my life for a miserable piece of garbage.
I'm now happily married to the latina I met at Tucantinas that night. "Bucket" re-married, but she is still cheating on her husband. Don't waste the years of your life that I did with an unstable woman. If you meet one, run away, and run fast.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I am a marvelous housekeeper. Every time I leave a man I keep his house." -- Zsa Zsa Gabor
