A Bad Marriage Is Fattening
Can a bad marriage really be fattening? Yes it can! In my own bad marriage I went from 125 pounds to 275 pounds 20 years later. This is the story of how my unhappy marriage made me fat — and how I divorced my husband and moved on to a happier new life.

Heart and Soul

What’s a wife to do if her husband does not want to have sex with her? If you were this wife (me) and hungry for love and affection from your husband, why you would raid your refrigerator of course.

My ex-husband, Paul, had sex with me only once in the last ten years of our marriage and that was the night before he walked out on me. And then he was unable to get it up.

In the back of my mind I can hear my ex-husband, Paul, confronting me. “So I see you’re pulling your drama queen act again — wanting your readers to feel sorry for you because your husband didn’t have sex with you. I suppose you haven’t told them the reason I didn’t have sex with you?”

“I have.”

“Oh, you did? And what exactly did you tell your very large readership out there in cyberspace?” Paul says with a laugh.

Paul is totally convinced that no one is reading my blog except his attorney who he has scrutinizing my posts in hopes of finding something he can sue me for.

“I told them that you didn’t have sex with me because you were angry with me.”

“Hallelujah and will wonders never cease! For once in your life you got something right! And tell me, Joanie, did you tell your distinguished readership the reason why I was always so angry with you?”

“No.”

“And why not?”

“Because I thought it would embarrass you.”

“How considerate of you to be so thoughtful about my feelings — but has it not occurred to you that you’ve already embarrassed me by telling everyone that when I did try to have sex with you on the last night of our marriage I couldn’t get it up?”

“Well, it’s the truth.”

“The reason I couldn’t get it up was that I was in love with another woman. Did you tell that to your readers? And did you also tell them your ridiculously desperate attempt to try and get me to stay by physically forcing yourself on me? And did you also tell them how you were crying hysterically and pleading with me, ‘Oh Paul, please don’t leave me. How will I survive without you? Please Paul, don’t breakup the family!’ How with all that hysteria was I supposed to get it up?”

I cringe inwardly at the memory of that night.

“But none of your tears could persuade me to stay, because I was about to start a beautiful new life with this incredible woman who loved me, respected me, and hung on to every word I said. Unlike you who was totally disrespectful of me, showed nothing but contempt for me and was constantly disobeying me. Isn’t that true, Joanie – weren’t you always disobeying me and never respecting my wishes?”

There you have it, dear reader, the reason why Paul was always so angry with me and withheld his love and sex from me. I was a bad wife who was constantly disobeying her husband and not respecting his wishes.

Paul might have had everyone jumping to his command at work because he was a doctor — but at home he was my husband. Apparently I was under the misguided impression that in a marriage both partners were equal. But Paul never treated me like I was his equal. Paul was twelve years older than me. Our marriage ended up being like a father/daughter relationship where Paul was the wise and all knowing father — and I was his scatterbrained daughter.

Poor Paul. To be harnessed to this scatterbrained daughter. So what is a doctor to do when he has a rebelling wife? Why go out and cheat on her of course.

Looking back now, I realize how frustrating it must have been for Paul to believe that he was the master in our marriage and then to find out that he had no control over his subject. As years passed and the marriage progressed I did come to disrespect Paul. To treat him with contempt. And to disobey his wishes. The rage inside of me built to a crescendo. I was constantly raiding the refrigerator — eating anything to numb the anger I was feeling inside.

My imaginary conversation with Paul continues. These imaginary conversations that I have with Paul are so real to me that I can actually feel and see his physical presence in the room. Paul looks over at me typing at the computer. “What are you typing?” he asks.

“A post for my blog.”

“Personally I think you’re wasting your time with this blog. I think it’s just going to end up being another dead end pursuit of your writing.”

“This might surprise you, Paul — but I’m beginning to build up a readership.”

“You are? Well, I know my attorney is reading you — but that’s only because I’m paying him to read you.”

“Has he found anything to sue me for?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure in time you’ll trip up and there will be something we can nail you on.”

“Has your attorney said anything about my blog?”

“Actually, he thinks it’s pretty funny.”

“Really, Paul — if your attorney thinks it’s funny I suggest you find another attorney.”

“Well, I haven’t read it, but I told him that you were definitely not funny. I was married to you and believe me you were not a barrel of laughs.”

“You’re so right. Ours was not a marriage where either one of us laughed.”

“So what are you writing about today — not that I’m going to read it.”

“I know, Paul. We were married for twenty years and you never read anything I wrote. Why was that?”

“Well, I never considered you to be a real writer.”

“No?”

“To me a real writer is someone who gets paid for what they write. Would I be a doctor if no one paid me for my services?”

“So I guess you won’t be interested in reading about my mad, passionate, wildly sex-crazed nights with my refrigerator?”

Paul scratches his head and gives me a critical look. “No wonder no one pays you for what you write. The things you dream up, Joanie — they’re bizarre.”

“Lots of women turn to their refrigerator for love.”

Whenever I tried to explain to Paul why I was so unhappy in our marriage, he would start to play an imaginary violin and sing loudly to drown out my voice.

“Paul. . .”

“What?”

“Play it again.”

“Play what again?”

“You know. Play it again for old time’s sake.”

Paul smiles a sweet disarming smile. It is the same smile Paul used to smile when we first started dating. It used to melt my heart. Dear reader, did I ever tell you that Paul could be so charming when he wanted to be? So very charming. No, I never told you that. I guess there is a lot of things I never told you about Paul.

“Madam’s wish is my command,” Paul says bowing down to me ever so gallantly. He starts playing his imaginary violin and singing.

“Heart and soul, I fell in love with you
Heart and soul, the way a fool would do. . .”

My mind travels back in time to when I first fell in love with Paul. I smile inwardly remembering it all so well. The dreams. The plans. The happy life Paul and I were supposed to share together. We were suppose to grow old together. It was not suppose to end with us divorced. Now another woman shares with Paul the dreams that I once had for us.

2 Responses to “Heart and Soul”

  1. Your Blog is sooo entertaining! Can’t wait for Part 2!

  2. Ok…when you said he couldn’t get it up…I busted out laughing. I know it wasn’t funny for you at the time; quite devastating I’m sure and for that my heart goes out to you. I assure you I was laughing at him.

    Such a pivotal moment…you were about to make love with the man you loved. In retrospect…you must feel some gratification this man could not perform when he most wanted to. You have to know this was not about you by now. It’s obvious he had issues with himself and it’s why he was so “judgmental” of you. What a person cannot face about them self, they love to beat down the one closest to them. The one they know all weaknesses of. He knew you wanted his approval…he was no way going to give it.

    He must have thought very highly of you and a jealousy you’ll never hear about from his lips. He expects you to be his doormat forever.

    You’re an excellent writer and you tell your story very well. I look forward to more.


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