Thursday, February 4, 2016

A fantasy

Ok, I think I'm somewhat recovered from the drama that was this visit from the Costa Ricans.

I seriously underestimated how upsetting it is to deal with a crumbling marriage.

When I first met this couple, they proudly showed me the framed newspaper cutout where the guy asked the girl to be his girlfriend in a cartoon... that was in the city capital's newspaper... a cartoon HE drew for HER and paid to be placed in the fucking newspaper.
I remember being a little cynical about it... thinking that perhaps this was a bit too much... because I'm a bitter cunt.
We were all sitting in the living room-- my folks, the Costa Rican couple, their two daughters, and me-- and I watched as the daughters caressed the picture frame, smiling and saying they wished their future husbands would do the same for them.
"And then they got married. And then we were born," the youngest said.

When I saw the motherfucking drama these two supposed-soulmates were bringing to MY house, this image kept popping into my head. I'd think of the stark contrast between the daughters, especially the eldest... that poor girl was making a heart out of her intestines (Mexican slang right there... quite possibly my favorite, because it's so accurate. Your heart is gone, so you make do with what is left-- and that's your goddamn disgusting intestines). Her parents were being children, and SHE was the one responsible for talking sense into them, all while disciplining her spoiled baby sister. This fourteen year old girl was being the adult in the entire situation... and her sad little eyes are a thing I'm sure will haunt me for years.

In the final days of the Costa Ricans' visit,  my folks sat down with the husband (this was on Sunday) and tried seeing his side of the problem. His wife and daughters had stayed Saturday night at the woman's family's home, because they planned going to church together. The husband is Catholic (the wife is Protestant, so apparently that wouldn't work), so he used it as an excuse to return to MY house with my father, claiming he was going to work with my Pops Sunday morning. My folks saw this as an opportunity to "talk sense into him." I saw it as an opportunity to lock myself in my room and disconnect the wifi to prevent myself from beating the fucking shit out of him.
(Friday afternoon I damn near beat him... seriously... I was ready to pound into his fucking face that afternoon after I returned from the gym and he jumped into MY shower I had prepared for myself. Before heading to the gym, I gave them my time frame-- I'd be coming home at 2:45ish, take a quick shower, then give them a tour of the city. This gave them an hour and a half to get ready, and I told them to do just that. When I got home, I checked up on them, told them I was going to hop in the shower, turned it on, RAN to the laundry room to get a fresh towel, and by the time I RAN back to the bathroom, I heard the dumb son of a bitch locking the bathroom doors. I almost fainted from the rage, and used up ALL of my self-restraint to keep from kicking down the bathroom door. "HE'S JUST NOW GETTING IN THE SHOWER?! WHAT THE FUCK DID HE DO ALL MOTHERFUCKING DAY?! FUCK IT, WE'RE LEAVING. WE'RE LEAVING RIIIIIGHT NOW!" I screamed as I changed into my clothes, grabbed my wallet and car keys. The wife and oldest daughter were ready to bounce, but the youngest made time, sitting down on the floor, claiming "We should wait for Daddy! Poor Daddy!" and I glared down at the kid... biting my tongue to keep from telling her to pity HERSELF... "poor Daddy" was going to ditch THEM once they got home. However, instead of getting cruel on the child, I grabbed my shit, threw it into my bedroom, and locked myself in for the remainder of the day. GOOD LUCK, KID! Hope you remain that fucking thoughtful for the piece of shit who traded you for some dumb, gold-digging married bitch)

What did we learn Sunday-Monday? That this marriage is done... that it took two people to destroy it... that being stubborn gets you nowhere.
Apparently, the guy is "tired of trying" because the girl is a spoiled Daddy's Girl who spend too much time caring for her paraplegic brother.
"What about me?! You know what I've always wanted to do? Go to a restaurant and SIT DOWN to have my meal... NOT order 'to go,'" he said.
Apparently, the wife refuses to do family stuff with just her nuclear family, and invited her folks and the paraplegic brother... and in turn, these people always order "to go" because they're too embarrassed to be seen in public with the brother.
I listened to his EXCUSES for ending the marriage... fighting the urge to slap him across the face... good thing I was locked in my room... and yes, that's how loud they were conversing in the kitchen.
"Tell me the truth, you already have another woman, don't you? A man doesn't let go of a marriage, and leaves his house and kids unless they already have another woman waiting," said my mother.
"No, but one is starting to appear," he said.
Again, I wanted to walk to my living room and drop kick his ass.

But my parents are classier than I am. They calmly listened to this piece of shit lie, and walked away.

Now, what do I think? I agree that the wife is a "daddy's girl." I agree that she is pretty... uh... helpless. When we went to Disneyland, we made a pit-stop at a Golden Corral, where I treated the couple and their 14 year old to the buffet. When we were going to walk in, the wife "tried" opening the door, struggled, and said it was locked.
I looked at my watch and said "That's odd... it's 10:30AM, it should be open by now." I reached for the door, and easily opened it. We all looked over at the wife, and she giggled "That door was hard as a rock!"
Another complaint from the husband is that the wife doesn't discipline her children, and refuses to let HIM discipline them. To this, I can also attest. Monday night, as I watched the girls pack their bags, I looked over to where my painting are kept, and noticed one of my unfinished paintings was just chilling there, with a gash running down the center.
"What the... wha... WHO did this?" I asked, grabbing the painting.
The 14 year old quickly denied, and looked directly at the youngest.
"It wasn't me. Why's everyone looking at me?" she asked.
The little one walked up to me, trying her best puppy-dog eyes... and this only angered me.
Kid, I'm fucking heartless... have you not learned?
"Because you're the only ones in here. This painting was fine when I let you girls stay in my room. There are no ghosts. No one else walked in here," I said.
I looked at the mom and she smiled... like this was some fucking comedy.
"So who did this?" I asked.
The oldest girl was hellbent on getting the little one to admit to her wrongdoing, and looked just as irritated as me with the lack of concern from the mother.
I did not get an apology from ANY of them... so I walked out of the room and angrily texted my sister and friends about the incident... as far away as possible from anyone in my house.

So, yeah, I fucking get it... sort of. But still, I don't agree with the manner in which it was all approached.
Also, we asked the husband if we could get both of them together and talk it out. Sometimes you need others to point out your flaws... maybe if we told the wife it was damn time she start behaving like an adult, she might change.
The wife WANTED to do it, he did not.
(He had thrown a lot of the fault on her... which... could have easily been cleared up with BOTH parties present... only the guilty don't want to talk it out)


Back in September, when they Skyped me to tell me the news of their visas being granted, they begged me to "please don't be married by January." I laughed, told the Costa Ricans that was definitely not a concern... that I'd definitely not have a boyfriend, much less be married by January.
How quickly, and ironically things seem to change.
While these people drained the fucking life out of me (it hurts to watch kids swallow the story that everything will be ok. Trying to build as big of a fantasy as Disneyland tends to feed... all while knowing the stark reality of a situation-- your father is going to ditch you upon your arrival to the homeland-- is painful and difficult as fuck)... I do wish them... healing.
What else is there to hope for something like this? It's so fucked up... and insane... that this little family that once seemed so freakishly loving and bonded, is going through this shit. It's disappointing-- as jaded as I may be-- to see "love" not just crumble, but EXPLODE out of existence.

I hope that I somehow managed to repay at least a portion of the kindness they always showed me the times I visited them in Costa Rica (I know throwing money at something doesn't always help, but I'll fucking try my hardest to at least ease the pain a bit... it can help keep one's mind preoccupied)... and gave them nearly as many happy memories as they gave me.

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