Marriage Anonymous

"Hi, I'm Ross, and I have a wife."

"Hi Ross." the group mumbled. Marriage Anonymous meetings are all the same.

"I have begun to suspect that my wife Angie is having an affair."

The group leader just nodded his head. The forty or so men (and two women) gathered here today looked bored.

"And how does that make you feel?" the group leader asked. Lenny, the group leader's name was Lenny.

"I feel many things. She has cut me off from sex entirely, without admitting that she has cut me off? You know, she's claims she's interested, just not interested right now? She's never interested right now."

The men mumbled and grunted in agreement, and one of the women said, "You know, that doesn't prove anything."

I focused my attention on her. "It's been a little over a year, so far. If it doesn't mean that she is getting sex outside our marriage, what does it mean?"

"Maybe she doesn't want to admit that she has lost interest in sex. She could be uninterested in sex, but doesn't want to admit it to you." She said. "I'm a woman, I know these things."

Did you know that right after 9/11, the FBI had agents join Mosques? They were to try to get intelligence about what was going on there, how the people there felt about religious extremism. It was way too obvious and it didn't work very well at all. So it was with these two women. Everyone pretended not to know that they were here to spy on us, and they pretended to empathize with the guys, but all in all it was pretty out in the open. The spies were mostly harmless, unless they figured out someone's last name; then they always informed the wife.

"We're drifting here," said Lenny, "I asked Ross how he feels about his wife's cheating. I wanted to know how he feels."

"He doesn't even know for sure that she's cheating!" said Karen, the woman who had pointed out that I didn't know for sure whether or not Angie was cheating. She was fast becoming a one-note wonder.

"He could always find out," said Sam, the private investigator who came to the meetings just to try and drum up some business. He always sat in the front row, and took this opportunity to bring me one of his business cards. "That's where I can help. Does anyone here know of any reason that he shouldn't hire me to find out for sure? If so. . ." He scanned the audience, looking for any objections.

Karen of course provided one. "Couldn't Ross try trusting his wife?"

I held Sam's card up and answered her. "As you yourself said, I don't know if she is cheating on me or not. She has demonstrated completely no interest in communicating with me. I have an nineteen year old son at home who communicates with me more than she does."

"And how does that make you feel Ross?" asked Lenny. Come to think of it, Lenny had become a one-note wonder, too.

"I don't know how or what to feel. We've been married for almost twenty years now. I don't know what to feel. I'm confused by her, her new lack of interest in me. I still listen; she just isn't talking anymore, at least not to me. Is she keeping secrets? I don't know. She responds with anger every time I attempt to talk with her. What have I done? She won't even tell me what I did to make her hate me so." I looked around the room. "What should I feel? What should I do?"

Barry (everyone calls him BTB, I don't know why) said "Burn the bitch! Beat up her asshole boyfriend and leave the country with all the money and sell the house for a nickel!"

We rent, I figured that selling the house would be a little difficult. "That seems a little extreme to me. I'll hire Sam to find out what's going on." I turned back to Karen. "Trust, but verify."

She just sniffed and said, "I figured you must be a Republican." She turned away from me in disdain.

After the meeting I talked with Sam, and he was to start watching Angie starting the next day.

***********************

They hold Marriage Anonymous meetings every week, although most people seem to come only once or twice a month. They are held in the gay and lesbian center on Normal Avenue, or in the community center a few blocks away on Vermont Street. Neither place has candy or coke machines, so it's up to us to bring pastries and coffee. The coffee maker in the gay center is much newer and nicer than the one at the other community center, but neither one has ever made a really good cup of coffee.

Sometimes, at the gay center, we would get some gays and/or lesbians wondering in to watch the breeders in pain. Having been abused for their sexuality, I guess that they found a little comfort in the fact that they weren't unique that way; here were a bunch of guys suffering for their heterosexuality. They were every one of them, nicer than the spies. Some of the gay guys would "stir the pot" when they got the chance, more interested in watching the argument than in actually helping us with solutions. But generally they were a nice bunch.

***********************

It was two weeks since my last meeting. Barry was going on a rant already; I was a few minutes late.

". . . she eats ice cream while driving the Mercedes, and gets the steering wheel all sticky!" I sometimes wondered if Barry had been dropped on his head as a child. I could picture it, maybe his dad and just didn't mention the event to his mom when they got home from the park. Some of the guys in the group would come in with bruises and abrasions, from being beaten by their wives. You know; dark sunglasses at night to hide the black eye? Barry was outraged by a sticky steering wheel.

I held up a package of cinnamon rolls for Lenny to see. He loved 'em. I brought them for him; I can't eat that stuff anymore. I think that I gain weight just smelling them. Since my home life had gone bad, I had started to take an interest in my health. I was on a low-carb diet and was actually losing weight.

"How do you feel about your wife right now, BTB?" asked Lenny. I guess that stirring the pot was Lenny's job.

"I wanna, I wanna. . ." sputtered Barry, "I want to tear her into little pieces and then stomp on the pieces!"

"And what are you actually going to do, BTB?" asked Lenny quietly.

Barry held still for a moment and then deflated. That's why we never reported him to the cops; although full of anger and violence, he couldn't express it any other way than verbally.

"Nothing," he said, "nothing. I love her so much. I wish that she loved me back; but she doesn't." He hung his head, but he didn't cry. It had been months now since he had cried.

People are so complicated, aren't they? And at the same time so simple too. He was married to an asshole. He loved her dearly, and she didn't care. But really, that was it, as far as she was concerned. They were married, and she was happy wearing the pants and keeping her husband and child on short leashes. If she was happy, shouldn't everyone be? And weren't her controlling ways proof of her love? After all, if she wasn't controlling her family, who knew what they would do that they shouldn't be doing?

She would drop him off at the meetings. She seemed to think that it was doing him some good. What would happen if he ever decided that she wasn't worth it? I have no idea, but I think that it wouldn't be good.

Barry was done for the day, and Jeff stood up.

"Hi, my name is Jeff. I'm married and my wife is unfaithful to me."

We all mumbled back. Jeff is a Greek God. He works at a fitness center, and fucks lots of older wives. He met his wife that way. She divorced her rich husband for him, and he married half the poor husband's money. Only he seems to have failed to control his wife or her money.

Jeff was a crier. He teared up even as he started talking.

"I don't know what to do. She had two guys over to the house; when I got home they were fucking her in the hot tub. She didn't pay me any attention at all!"

Wow. I mean, wow. Two guys at once? She was forty! I wondered what she had been like at twenty.

"So Jeff, what's your complaint; that she was fucking someone else, that she was fucking two someone elses in the hot tub? Something else?" asked Lenny.

"Shouldn't I be enough for her? I have like six women at the club, regulars. They seem happy with me. Why does my own wife feel the need to fuck around on me?"

I could think of a reason. I was also starting to think that there had to be a pre-nup in there somewhere.

Jeff pulled his shirt off. Again. He managed to do that sometime during every meeting. His chest and pecs were awesome. Some of the gay guys had admitted to me that he was the main reason that they came to the meetings. Though none would admit it, I was sure that a few of the lesbians would consider changing sides for him, at least temporarily. I mean, by the sounds they made when his shirt came off it sounded like they would.

Jeff cried, as usual, and some guys group hugged him, and yes some (most) of the guys were gay. Gay or straight, us guys are all dogs. Or maybe not; I didn't hug him. That probably doesn't prove anything.

When all that quieted down, and there was a lull in the mumbling, I stood up.

"Hi, my name is Ross, and I have a wife."

I got the usual mumble, with some arm pumping and whooting from Norma and Brenda, a married lesbian couple that get along so well that they seem like a living advertisement for marriage. They remind me of my parents. I remember how sad my mother was when my father died. I simply couldn't imagine Norma without Brenda, or Brenda without Norma. They were friends of mine; I had danced with both of them at events across the street at the dance hall. I smiled and waved.

"Sam" I said, "what have you learned?" I heard someone make a 'huh' noise, and realized that some people here hadn't been here two weeks ago when I hired Sam to find out what was going on.

"I hired Sam two weeks ago to find out if Angie was seeing anyone."

Sam stood up. "I have good news for you Ross. I followed her around, and set some of my assistants to follow her, and she is absolutely clean. She wasn't alone with any man for any length of time the whole two weeks. I got a report for you here, pay me and you can have it!"

There was applause, Norma and Brenda held hands, up over their heads. Karen the Spy said loudly, "Asshole!" Sam was of a mind to take offense, so I told him"She means me, not you Sam!"

I ended my part of the night telling Sam "Thank you, I'll pay you tonight after the meeting." Which I did.

***********************

I sat at my computer that same night, reading the report that I had just paid eighteen-hundred dollars for. It was pretty detailed, with times for Angie's coming and going from the house, and everywhere she went while out of the house. Incidentally it showed my arrivals and departures, and Jeremy's as well, even though he and I hadn't been followed.

I found out that Angie was a shopaholic. She was out every day shopping. I had a list of stores that she visited each day. While the report didn't show what she bought, it did show where she came out empty handed, and where she came out with purchases. I just wrote the check each month for her credit card. I had had no idea how much time she spent just shopping.

I had to wonder what she got at Fredericks. I hadn't seen any fancy or frilly underthings. But then, I wouldn't. Did she buy them just for herself? Did she feel so unattractive that she bought the frilly underwear just to feel better about her looks?

Had I somehow made her feel unwanted? Was her attitude toward me a reaction to something that I had done? It had been well over a year now, and she had never told me about any particular event that offended her. She just hated me in general.

Why?

***********************

"Hi, I'm Lenny, and I am married."

Whoa! Lenny? I thought that he was done with all the excitement of marriage. He and his soon to be ex were negotiating the division of property, had been for a long time, it seemed. I guess that the process not coming to a close more swiftly should have been a heads up.

Instead of the usual mumbles, there were a few cries of "No Lenny!" and just "No!" from the group. Lenny let the hubbub die down; he was a pretty good speaker. I couldn't help it, I asked him "What happened, Lenny?"

"You remember that she found her true love, and was done with me? How she had me served at work to maximize the hurt? Well, he's gone now and she wants to get back with me."

"She has spent the last year and a half making my children hate me. She has very successfully at that too. And now she wants me back."

We don't get too many shocks like that at our meetings. It happens, but not usually so late in the game as it were.

There was a lot of shifting around in seats, but Lenny held up a hand and said "Don't worry, I haven't promised anything yet. I wanted to talk to friends, you guys included. So Karen, what do you think I should do?"

For the first time that I could remember, Karen was caught without something to say. Her mouth worked for a while, 'till she finally came out with "Me?"

"Karen," said Lenny, "we call you and your friends the spies, because you aren't really here to find others who have suffered as you have. You are here to mess with our heads and try to make us even more miserable, if you can. But unlike the other spies, you have been here twice a month for about two years. You may not have heard it all, but you have heard an awful lot. So tell me;" he leaned over the little table top podium, "What would you do if you were me? What would you do if you had a husband who was massively unfaithful to you, who took your children from you with lies, who made you hate the one you had loved so much." Suddenly Lenny looked very, very tired. He sounded horse. "Who taught you not to trust anymore."

"What would you do, if he then decided he wanted you back?"

We all looked at her. She didn't seem to notice us, she stared at Lenny. As we watched, her face changed. Not instantly, not all at once; but it changed. Shock was the first thing we saw there. Then her face flowed from shock to something else, something that as little as she had ever tried to be any friend of the group, I didn't want to see there. The self-assured woman melted away and someone a lot less self possessed took her place. It hurt to look at her, and I knew, I guess that we all knew, that we were seeing the face that she had gotten from trusting someone and having her trust betrayed.

"Awwwwwwwwwwwwww!" she cried, and started sobbing. "I hate you!" She stood, shaking, holding the back of the cheap folding chair in the row in front of her. "I hate you! There is no solution, this whole group is hopeless!" Between each statement now she sobbed. "I don't have answers, he left me. No note. Nothing, just gone!" She wrapped her arms around herself. "I would take him back in an instant. I hate him, and if I took him back I would hate myself too. But I want what we had so much. . ."

And now she stood there crying loudly, and I am sure that I wasn't the only one there who felt that maybe she was right, maybe it was hopeless and that maybe we were as bad for women as they were for us. Because here she was, two years into being here, and only now had someone thought to include her in our pain, and I know that for myself I felt like the lowest most selfish piece of scum for letting a woman down like that. That is not what men are for.

Then Norma and Brenda were there. They pulled her seat away and hugged her from behind, one on each side, and she let them.

***********************

When I got home that night, when I was home, I went to my wife's door, and sat down on the floor leaning against it. After months of her refusing to talk with me except to curse me I had given up. I let her treat me any way she wanted, and took it because I had no idea what to do. If I divorced her, I would be supporting her and paying rent someplace else. She hadn't worked in twenty years. She wasn't looking for work now. She wasn't taking classes. She couldn't leave, she had nowhere to go. I had nowhere to go. We both stayed not for love, but for convenience.

But we had loved, oh how much we had loved, once; for many years really.

I went down to the living room and took a blanket and a throw pillow back up to her door, and lay down there, and wept, and slept.

***********************

I no longer believe that Marriage Anonymous meetings are all the same. Last week had been different. The meeting had been different.

I was different. I still brought cinnamon buns, but I was different. I don't know why. Could it be that we, the women and the men, had more in common than I had thought? I still didn't know what I had done, it had to be something; didn't it?

Karen walked up to me. This was different. The meeting hadn't really started yet, and we usually socialized for a while before sitting down and exchanging our little stories of woe. She called my name and walked over to me, as if I were a regular person, and not some monstrous creature of hurting.

I didn't say anything when she got to me. Honestly, I couldn't have thought of saying 'Hi". So I stood there and waited for her to talk.

"Brenda and Norma speak highly of you." she said. That surprised me. They were friends, but we only danced together, and didn't socialize outside of that.

"Do they? That's okay; I speak highly of them too. They're good people."

"They say that you haven't a mean bone in your body. How can that be, if your wife no longer talks to you?"

Ouch. That hurt. "I don't know how. I would have to say that Brenda and Norma have been very kind to me, to say such a nice thing about me. And I can give you no answer about why my wife won't talk to me. I mean, if she won't talk to me . . ." I let the thought trail off.

"Did you enjoy my little breakdown last week?"

That was a shocker. "No! No I didn't, I didn't enjoy it! How could you . . .?" I backed away from her. How could she believe that of me? Even if we weren't friends, we had met here at the Marriage Anonymous meetings. "It hurt. It hurt A LOT!"

"So you didn't enjoy seeing me cry?"

"No, I didn't. " I said. "Lenny asked you a question, and you broke open and spilled your grief on us. Grief I hadn't known you felt, that you had kept inside yourself as you tortured us the last two years. Did I enjoy it? No. You don't like us, but you at least seemed to be in control of yourself, pursuing some evil goal of your own; but the depth of betrayal that you kept inside? I had no idea, and it hurt to see it, and to know that a man had done that to you. "

"I didn't think that you cared, or could care!" She said. "Is it because I showed weakness that you suddenly cared how I feel? Does a woman have to be weak to earn your feeling?"

I looked at the floor. I couldn't meet her eyes for a moment. We were not communicating well at all, if she could take that from what I had said.

"Is the being of honest, weak?" I asked.

***********************

I was getting tired of sleeping in the living room. If I removed the desk from the downstairs office, I could put a cot in there. It wasn't a spare room really; more like a large closet. So I Craig's listed the desk and chair, and when they went I bought a cot to sleep on in there. I replaced the door knob with one that locked. At every point along the project, Angie dogged my actions and told me how awful I was. Am I wrong, if she wants a fight and I don't, if I don't rise to her bait?

When it was all done I told her quietly, that "If the only time you ever talk to me is to argue, than I would prefer silence."

But then I couldn't resist adding, "Remember when we used to love one another?"

***********************

Is love so common, so available, that we can just squander it?

***********************

It was a few weeks before I went to a meeting again. I was cowardly, I didn't want to see or talk to Karen again. I went when I couldn't stay away anymore. I know it's just a get together for those who have loved and lost. But it was a little social thing, and I wasn't usually treated like an idiot here.