Masks of the Heart, Real Life, and Breakfast in Bed

I can’t say that any of my facades are this lovely, but I do appreciate a good Venetian mask.  I can put up a heavy front when I feel it is required, which is most of the time, but there’s not much I can do to mask my poor coordination and bad proportions or exceptionally plain face.  It’s just not possible to polish a turd, unless of course you have watched the episode of Mythbusters where Adam and Jamie do exactly that to make a point.  It can technically be done, but why?

I hide behind a lot of masks.  Sarcasm is one of my favorites.  So is assuming intellectual superiority where possible, which is more often than it probably should be.  I’ve never claimed to be some sort of great mind- the more I learn the more I discover I don’t know- but the ignorance and/or stupidity of the populace at large is frightening.  Just because stupidity is rampant doesn’t make me any smarter than I was before.  Rampant stupidity only means that most other people are more stupid than I am, which is scary on a number of levels.   Here’s how I see it.  I am no great intellect, but in comparison to the average Joe or Jane Blow on the street, I’m a flipping rocket scientist.  That should be frightening to anyone who has ever witnessed me in one of my absent-minded fits where I’ve misplaced and then had to try to find things like my car keys, my phone, my Bluetooth headset, or my MP3 player.  I should have Velcro embedded into my skin and likewise a patch of Velcro stuck to these essential objects so I can just stick those objects to my body.  That way, maybe, I can remember where they are.  It could make showering a challenge though.

In reality, I’m certainly not a rocket scientist.  I played hell getting through high school algebra.  I wonder to this day how I not only made it through three quarters of accounting in college, but managed to do it with high “B”s.  I may be one of those geeky analytical types, but for some reason higher math never clicked with me.  I’m doing good to balance my checkbook so I can freak out over all the money I don’t have.

Money and intelligence don’t always go together either.  Especially inherited or married-into money.  I never had any kind of advantage in that department- having been born not only with a plastic spoon in my mouth AND looks that could stop a thousand trucks.  So I never got any scratch from relatives, and I certainly didn’t have the bait to attract a rich sugar daddy.  I’m fortunate to have landed a man with Dad’s minimum criteria.  Dad would always ask three questions when my sisters would talk about getting serious with a guy:

1. Is it white? (Racist?  Probably, but Dad is not at all PC, and in his mind marrying a Catholic was as close to “mixed marriage” and moving past the traditional WASP couple paradigm as he ever chose to contemplate.  He just about lost it when one of my sisters went out on a date with a guy who was half Mexican.  For some reason, though, he didn’t object to Jerry, who is probably 9/10ths or more Cherokee.)

2. Is it male? (Homophobic?  Definitely- but Dad does come from a backwater town- and a very conservative, old school, Regular Baptist upbringing. I am most certainly a straight woman anyway, so I can forgive him that. I may have brought home some dismal trollings in my time, but they were always male.)

3. Is it employed? (Dad has no use for deadbeats, and I really don’t blame him for that either.)

To his three minimum qualifications (though #1 is a grey area as far as I’m concerned- I really don’t get hung up on race or ethnicity) I would add “hair” and “teeth.”  Jerry does have hair and teeth (the teeth are mostly implants, but not dentures at least) which at almost 54 is rather amazing.  I am a bit curious, though I hesitate to investigate the statistics.  I wonder how many men over the age of 50 are afflicted with ED?  I bet it’s more than half, and I bet very few of them either admit it or do anything about it, regardless of the popularity of  the Viagra and Cialis commercials.  Guys just don’t like to face it.  I can add an FYI: neither do women.  We just suffer in involuntarily celibate silence- unless we have the money (and the lack of scruples and absence of shame) to hire a boytoy.  I have neither the money nor the lack of conscience to find myself a boytoy, cougar jokes with Steve-o’s friends aside, so it is what it is.  Thankfully, I have hobbies, and early menopause has pretty much done away with any desire I had anyway.   My idea of a romantic evening is TruTV and an early bedtime.  It’s easier that way anyway.

Dad never said anything about ED.  He should have warned me, but I can’t imagine someone as modest and straight laced as Dad about such things making a statement like this:

“Just so you know, when your old man gets to be about 45 or so, his Johnson won’t work any more.  Sorry.”

There’s just some things you have to learn as you go, apparently.

I’ve got to stop putting myself through that kind of noise.  The whole weekend breakfast routine.  I don’t even like breakfast, and I usually only gag down some yogurt and oatmeal to keep my sugar in line in the mornings.  (Diabetes sucks, but it does make you pay attention to nutrition and exercise and all that health nut stuff.) Jerry enjoys the Behemoth Breakfast which means I have to get up early on a weekend morning to fix it for him, and serve it to his happy ass- in bed.  I don’t know how someone can drink that much alcohol and eat that much grease and still be above ground.  Maybe I’m the one who has it backwards.  Jerry might be like those Russian dudes who drink vodka all day and smoke cigars one right after the other and live to be 115.  That wouldn’t surprise me one bit.

9 thoughts on “Masks of the Heart, Real Life, and Breakfast in Bed

  1. David says:

    If you each give yourselves 100% to your marriage, you’ll find the ED stuff goes away…from a guy who knows. PS, does he spend his time looking at porn or television women? If so, that’s a big problem. I gave that crap up 6 years ago and haven’t had a problem since, and no pills. Devote yourself to him, have him devote himself to you 100% and the sexual barrier will disappear. Probably. Yah, and I’m diabetic, too.

    • Interesting insight. Jerry isn’t into porn at all as far as I can tell, but he is very into alcohol. He drinks a LOT of beer. He gets hammered three or four times a week at least. I can understand very well how I can be hard to live with, but I do at least attempt to be unobtrusive and as low maintenance as possible. It’s a vicious cycle- he drinks, I ignore him because I can’t stand how he acts when he’s drunk, so it becomes really difficult to try to relate to him when he is actually sober. I know it’s not fair to simply blame him and the drinking, but I have at least come to a point of not blaming myself for his poor decisions. Now for the next step of either deciding to live with the status quo or moving forward whatever that may be. I continue to pray, to let go, to try to forgive but as you can see sometimes that is easier said than done. Thanks for stopping by, and I hope that by the grace of God I will have the strength to do what I need to do.

      • David says:

        It’s all about selfish desires, isn’t it? He loves the state of drunkenness more than he loves you.

        I’ll keep you in prayer.

  2. Cat says:

    Wow. That David guy was harsh. Like what does he know about your actual life anyway?
    You were very brave to broach that subject, girlfriend. My X bf tried that Viagara shit without telling me and gee, wow, I wonder why he had a hard on for five hours???? And couldn’t sleep. And had a racing heart beat. Like maybe your not supposed to use it recreationally? Jus sayin.

    • David says:

      I didn’t comment on her life, I took her comment and, having been in a similar situation from the male side, told her how I fixed it. Elysianhunter said that wasn’t the case in her situation. OK, I accept that. What it shows is that, like my case, I cared more about one thing than I did about something else, in my case once I put my focus on my marriage, everything else adjusted to it’s proper place. Since I did that, I have never needed anything to become romantic with my wife. It’s all about putting your heart in the right place. And for what it’s worth, My wife and I are just north of 55 years old. I’m serious when I say, if you put 100% of your heart into making the one you say you ‘love’ happy, nothing else will get in the way. I’m not saying we go at it like bunnies every night for six hours, but whenever we want to make love, we both reach a successful conclusion every time.

      Also, EH, I know it comes off harsh, but I’m not trying to be. I understand where you are, because my wife was there where you are when my interests moved to the other things I mentioned. I was the one who had the block in my mind, and eventually our intimate times dwindled to nothing. But once I turned away from those things and made my life simple-worshipping God above all else, making it my mission to get her to heaven, and supporting us financially-nothing has stood in our way.

      • David I don’t take your comments as overly harsh- you are absolutely right. (Cat- it’s OK, really- I’m glad for the input!) I appreciate the feedback and the male perspective. I know that with God all things are possible but it is hard to be patient and stay sane when your spouse acts like a drama queen over every trivial thing and routinely drinks himself into stupidity almost every night. I have to try to find the humor in it just to get along- and the ED issue is just one more aspect of life here in Whine Country. It’s one of the reasons I really wonder why I even care or try at all. It would be easier to leave in many ways- but it’s not the right thing for me to do. That much I do know. Sometimes you have to do the things that are difficult- but if I am going to stay with Jerry and put up with all his mess it’s kind of hard to just suffer in silence.

    • David says:

      No, EH, I know you didn’t, but thought that if Cat thought so, I should explain myself.

      If you’re Catholic, you can always offer your suffering and tolerance up to Jesus. Put your cares and worries about your husband on the altar at mass, and pray like St. Monica. Jesus will give you comfort.

      • I am Christian but not Roman Catholic- I would best describe my understanding of Christian faith and theology as confessional Lutheran, which in many ways is close. We have a very similar understanding of the role of suffering in the lives of believers. I was raised between a very old school Catholic mother and Dad and Grandma, who were Regular Baptists. Needless to say I had a lot of theological conflicts and loads of questions, and through the years I’ve had to do a lot of soul searching and prayer and Bible study. The good news is that there are really not so many differences between Christians once you get to the core of Christian faith, Who is Jesus Himself. I find it interesting that you bring up St. Monica. She waited a long, long time for her son Augustine to come around, but the Holy Spirit eventually did answer her prayers. It’s about God’s timing and not so much mine. I have tried to follow her example in lifting up my husband and my son to Jesus in prayer.

      • David says:

        You’re right that Christians pretty much agree with each other over 90% of the scope of Christian doctrine. If you’re Lutheran, and confessional, then you see the vast history we have to rely on.

        I grew up much the same way. We started off as a family as Evangelical and Reformed. that particular church went to United Church of Christ, so we left, leaving Mom and Dad (much more Mom than Dad) church-shopping. Mom said “If the Presbyterian Church is good enough for Ronald Reagan, it’s good enough for me.” Of course not realizing that there are several flavors of Presbyterian (as there are Lutheran). So after several years, when I was already out of the house, they ended up Baptist (mostly because her sister was Baptist). This left me confused, and I went from Methodist to practically agnostic. I knew there was a God, and called him when I needed something, but ignored him the rest of the way. Leading me to indifferentism and easily led down the porn highway. Wife put up with me for 17 years and prayed like St. Monica for my conversion, and finally, the seed sprouted. I’ve been Catholic 6 years, and am discerning for ordination as a permanent deacon. I will keep you in my prayers. I intend to do pastoral counseling for pre-Cana marriage prep, as well as post marital counseling when I’m ordained.

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