The Six Year Anniversary 4/26/2009

I found this in my unpublished drafts. I was too scared to post this. I didn't want police or anyone else notified.
I had completely forgotten about this night. Looking back, I think it speaks volumes. 


The night before our anniversary, I went out for sushi with a couple of girlfriends. It's the first night I'd really been out in almost two years. My friend Kristina and I had been talking about it for months. She knew I desperately needed the break but I either didn't have the funds for it or couldn't get away. (My issues with getting away are another story entirely.) When my Dad received more bad news from his Oncologist, she swore she was kidnapping me if I didn't agree to go, so April 17th I went to Ra for a night out with the girls.

We laughed and joked and drank Saki Bombers and shared a bottle of Sparkling Saki while we delighted in the deliciousness that are Viva Las Vegas Rolls. At some point I remembered that our anniversary was the next day. I groaned that I'd forgotten yet again while I was sure he'd remembered, and joked that I was the man in this relationship when it came to things like anniversaries and birthdays.

It was already ten at night and I had NO IDEA what I was going to give him. We went through the list of places that would be open.

Gas Station.

Walmart.

Sex shop.
Bingo!

We decided that we would go back to Heather's house since her roommate had some friends over that Heather needed to say hi to, then we would head to Castle MegaStore for some "toys."
Perfect.

At some point, I texted the Husband to see if he had remembered the anniversary. It was apparent that he had not, but was trying to pretend that he had. For some reason, I found this to be hilarious and started to quiz him on what he had planned so I could eventually call him out on his fib and laugh together at how scatterbrained we were to both forget our anniversary.

Bad move Masochist. Bad move.

He did not appreciate the light-hearted ribbing. He finally told me that since I was "making fun" of him, there would be no anniversary celebration and I could simply sit at home by myself. This promptly brought me to tears which caused Kristina to take my phone from me while she shook her head at another night ruined by the Husband's anger. I begged her to take me home and she obliged.

We stopped for food at Filiberto's as a peace offering, but he wasn't home. I sent him a message and waited. When he finally showed up, he was holding a bottle of Tequila. So I asked, "Plan on doing any drinking?"

Bad move again, apparently.

He started slamming doors, stomping around the house and yelling at me for being gone all night. He was angry that I had been "making fun" of him. The more I tried to explain, the angrier he became. He told me I was crazy and drunk.

Drunk, yes. Crazy, not today Sir.

Then he told me to get out of the house, go for a drive.

If anyone else had tried to kick me out of the house, I would have told them to fuck off. But when a 230 lb. Bipolar who has left you bruised and bloodied before tells you to get out- you get the fuck out.

Here's where I act like an idiot:

Instead of taking my car, I took his truck. His precious truck that he loves more than he does our children.

Stupid stupid Masochist.


I grabbed my Filiberto's (which I was NOT going to share with him anymore thankyouverymuch,) some water and drove 2mph to the next street over and ate my food. Twenty minutes later he came screeching down the street and HIT his truck with my car. Not hard enough to damage it because that most certainly was not the point. Just hard enough to try to intimidate me.

Normally he would have, but being intoxicated and therefore somehow invincible, I started laughing. He leapt out of the car and walked on top of the hood of my car to get to me. I laughed even harder. He flung the door open and ordered me out. I continued to laugh and then laughed some more when I realized that I'd spilled sour cream all over his seat. His precious seat.

I got in my car, he got in his truck. He left, I sat there and debated on where I should go.

Home seemed like a very stupid option.

Driving anywhere on a main road seemed like an even stupider option seeing as how I still wasn't exactly sober.

So I slept in the parking lot of the local Mormon Church.

Happy Anniversary Masochist. Mazel Tov.