If I Were a Hammer

What a friggin' rollercoaster-on-a-merry-go-fucking-round ride I have been on. I have gained an easier distance from Sara these past two weeks. Certain words and phrases she has coined occasionally come to mind and I double-take, HUH?! "Estranged," "...not into him anymore....loveless marriage...living as roommates for two years already." Why am I such a dumbass for putting up with this shit? And then speaking about every guy she has loved at every job she has held since re-entering the world. The guy in The Cottage who wanted to be her "beau" (that's how they speak in Utah--rotted French). Eric the bartender in Quincy's. John, jr., in St. James's. Michael at Nordstrom's. Dennis at The Hawke (that's right, he's "gay"--that's why she refers to him in her writing as The Viking). And Markus Fuchs 4-ever. Aw gee. A classic case of a woman who was a girl with one, twisted relationship with her daddy. Makes for great action in the sack but outside of it she looks for love and approval from as many men who will give it...and it's not always neccessarily sexual. She knows how much I love her but it doesn't matter squat to her. We have had a life together for eleven years, but "this fella over here just told me how wonderful I am and I would make the perfect woman if only I wasn't married."

Wookay. He's the new flavor of the month. Expiration date: Whenever the next one enters the scene. "But I'll slowly ease him out. Keepin with this old one until I'm sure and then, SNIP."

Yesterday she mentions looking for a realtor to help in our search for a house. Huh? It's like she's purposely fucking with my head at this point. She knows how much I adore her, but she's simultaneously working to see if she can get me to equally abhor her. I want more than anything to stay together and enjoy a happy, fruitful life, as individuals and as a couple. But how can this happen when it is so damn crowded with her feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness and insecurities and neuroses and depression and seeing me as the root of all her problems. She is worthy of happiness, with or without me, certainly not a question of her being worthy of me and our beautiful children, but our ofttimes sense of not being worthy of one such as Sara. She is an incredible woman who allows herself to suffer from a malignant childhood diseased by two loving parents who hated each other far too much. I understand it. I can see how it happens, but it still pisses me off to no end.

No one is perfectly healthy. Each of us suffers from some variety of malady. My own are numerous. I suffer from a financial disability. I am fiscally immature: Incapable of taking care of debts and saving money. Perhaps this America in the 21st century, or, perhaps, it's Tim Straub every day.

Three weeks later:
I had no access to the computer over the break because of my code-cracking of Sara's e-mail. I hate it. Her German is apparaently planning a visit to the states soon...he'll stay at her place of work, read, listen to music, have as much sex as possible with her. I called her on it. She was at work. I was pissed. If this is where we are at, so utterly finis, then get away from me. Leave. If she is arranging an affair to remember under the Lambertville sun then do me this one nicety, one last show of respect for what we once had as parents and as a couple, and go away.