Husband Number 2

Husband Number 2: RT/5 years (although truth be told, I can’t remember)

How We Met

The years after my first divorce were odd. I was a baby divorcee; I looked like a child but I already had a past. I had no role models. I had never known anyone who was divorced. No one understood why I was divorced. I am not sure I even knew why myself. My brother David opined that he thought he knew why; my voice was too annoying. David might be right about my voice, sometimes it sounds annoying to me too, but I don’t think my voice had anything to do with it.

I think I was still searching for myself, and by that I mean, still searching for someone in whose I eyes I could see a pleasing reflection of myself. In other words, I was clueless.

And like any clueless twenty something I didn’t have much in the way of standards, other than what I used to, i.e. finding someone who 1) needed care taking, 2) paid attention to me when I was entertaining and 3) said they liked me. One night in a neighborhood bar called “Bob’s Place” Husband Number 2 said hello. Did I mention it was a bar? One of those old time bars where serious drinkers drink. Seriously.

I was not, never have been, never will be a drinker. I have other vices, like getting married all the time, but drinking has never been my problem. However, never having been exposed to hard core alcoholics, I was unaware of the significance of regular bar going behavior. But, I digress; he said hello and told me the very sad story of his life and marriage.

His Story

He was a twin; an identical twin and they were the youngest children born to the black sheep of a prominent local family. His father was the black sheep because he was a spectacular alcoholic. And when I say spectacular I mean the kind of drunk who drinks up all the family money, including what his children earned, so that he could get, and keep his drink on.

Husband Number 2 was (and still may be ) brilliant. He graduated number 2 out of a class of a thousand. His twin graduated number 1. He had earned his ticket out of his family hell - a FULL scholarship to a mid-western liberal arts college. He went there for about a month before he had to drop out to marry his then 7 month pregnant high school sweetheart.Yep - she had gotten pregnant before graduation and manged to keep it a secret for months and months. Why he they thought the pregnancy could be ignored is incomprehensible, but they did. And then one day, she told her folks and bang, they were married and living with Husband Number 2’s family. He went to work, they moved out on their own with help from her family. Husband No. 2 got a good job.

Wife went to school, ultimately earning her Ph.D., having an affair along the way and leaving Husband Number 2 to fend for himself. He drank, he told me, because he was in so much pain. I bought it. He also told me that, having grown up in an alcoholic home, he would never allow himself to “become” an alcoholic. I bought it.

High point

He converted to Judaism to marry me. We had a lovely wedding, I got pregnant right away and had Son Number 1 who was (and still is) gorgeous, smart, funny and worth every tear shed in the marriage.

Low point(s)

More than can be counted - Husband Number 2 worked hard and that is why he was never home. He worked hard and that is why he was stressed and the stress is why he got mean. He drank vodka which is why I never knew he was mean because he drank. But mostly I stayed out of his way. I worked, took care of our son and left him alone on the weekends so he could go to a weekend college program to finish his degree. He was so smart that even in mid stage alcoholism (he was having blackouts) he could work full time, do college full time (on weekends), maintain a 4 point average and appear normal. Except things were happening - he went on a business trip and disappeared for a night. He couldn’t remember what happened, although his American Express statement offered a clue - there was a two thousand dollar charge to a bar across the state line from his hotel. There were other things too; he hit a bridge one night - we had to pay for it. And he was getting meaner and meaner.

Breaking Point

Son number 1 was about 2 years old. Husband No. 2 had not come home from work and it was getting late. I was angry when he finally rolled in - by this time I suspected alcohol - but he had convinced everyone (including his psychiatrist) that he was depressed. I was lectured by the doctors to be more supportive of his depression. They were of the opinion that there was no way he was an alcoholic given the high level at which he functioned.

We had words and he put his hands around my neck and squeezed; I got away to the phone and dialed a friend. She had just answered when he got to me and pulled the phone out of the wall. He let me go when Son No. 1 woke up and starting crying. By this time there were lights in the driveway - my friend had figured out there was a problem. I grabbed my son and ran out of the house to stay with my friend.

In spite of this episode he continued to deny drinking. He told his doctor that he thought he had a brain tumor; he said he was scared that something terrible was happening to him. Diagnostic tests had been scheduled when all of sudden he admitted the extent of his drinking.

I left him with no more than the clothes on my back. Turns out he drank everything away. Everything.

Fondest memory

Of him, none - of my life then, all the wonderful afternoons and evenings with Son Number 1, including watching Lenny Barker pitch his perfect game.

Fallout

Once a child is in the equation everything changes. There isn’t just baggage after the marriage ends - there is fallout.