It seems like damned near every relationship I’ve been in, the woman felt like I could be improved on. I never could understand that shit – you got together because you like each other, but after you get together you find out that you’re basically just the rough draft.
Sure, there’s always something about the other person that you don’t care for, but with guys it’s different. Sometimes we just accept the fact that that’s the way that particular woman is and hey! accept her for who she is. Other times we just figure it ain’t worth the fucking time and effort so we just deal with it. If she blows monster farts right before she wakes up, get up before she does. That’s dealing with it.
But trying to change somebody, their entire being – that’s women’s work right there.
I remember the first time it happened to me. I was in the army and in and on-again off-again relationship for a while. On (mostly) when I was in garrison, off when I was in the field. That was my doing – I couldn’t reasonably expect a 25 year old woman to sit in her barracks room all night when I was playing army, so it was easier to just sign off 5 months out of the year than to get pissed off if I found out she’d been seeing someone else while I was gone. No big deal, I was keeping it light.
It turns out she wasn’t. She was letting it get serious. I’m pretty sure she was – why the fuck else would she try and change somebody she was having a casual relationship with?
Her thing was my drinking which really threw me for a loop see as we met at a party where we were both fucked up beyond belief. Our first few dates were at bars and gasthauses – her idea. But something changed somewhere and I ain’t entirely sure why or when. All I knew is all of a sudden I’m finding AA literature in my room, then she’s wanting to have heart to heart talks and shit like that. What was funny was she didn’t mind me drinking beer one bit but she had a hard on for me drinking whiskey.
Hell, I remember one time she had an ‘intervention’ for me long before anybody even heard of those motherfuckers. She invited all my friends, my drinking buddies mind you, to ambush me and tell me how my life was being destroyed by hard alcohol. That was a fucking joke – halfway through his talk Ralph got up and got a bottle out of my locker to slug down a stiff drink to loosen his tongue (or so he claimed) and out of habit, passed me the bottle and that was all she wrote.
It was a Friday and I’d had duty the night before so I had the day off. About 2 o’clock I wandered over towards the EM club in the hopes it was open and lucked out. Okay, it wasn’t open but the door was unlocked, so me and the bartender locked the door and was spending the afternoon laughing and joking and bullshitting, waiting until 4 when he opened and he could sell me alcohol. We drank a few beers and at 4 when he opened the doors I ordered a glass of whiskey. He pours me a shot and I waved it off, pointing to the water glasses and sliding him a twenty. He fills one up.
I hadn’t even taken a sip of it when Washington freezes, his eyes wide open looking for all the world like Buckwheat from The Little Rascals. “Uh-oh, Blood. You in big trouble.”
He wasn’t kidding. She starting bitching from 50 feet away. “I have been looking for you all afternoon and you’ve been here drinking whiskey the whole time? It’s not even 5 o’clock yet and you’re already nag nag nag…”
Give me a fucking break. I’ve had something like 3 beers in 2 hours. American beer, at that. I didn’t even have a buzz, but I did have to take another piss.
“…nag nag nag why do you always drink whiskey? It makes you look like a vulgarian.” She was stomping her little feet, she was so pissed.
“Wash, what’s a vulgarian?” I whispered.
He shrugs. “I don’t know those fancy white people words. Our wimmens calls us dog motherfuckers, shit like that.”
I ignored what was probably an insult and turned to Shelby. “Hold on, now. Did we have plans or something tonight?” It sounded like a reasonable question to me. If we did, my bad, but we could still go. I still hadn’t touched my whiskey.
“NO, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!! YOU’RE MISSING THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT!!!”
I reckon I am. Maybe it’s because I’m sober. I drained about half that water glass and shuddered, recovering just in time to watch her pick up my glass and throw it at me, missing me completely with the glass but drenching me in cheap bourbon because she throws like a girl, and beaning poor old Washington right in the forehead, then she turned around and stomped out.
“Fucking white woman got a temper on ‘er don’t she, Bro?” Washington asked as he’s rubbing his owie and checking for blood.
“Lightweight, yeah. Hey, are you gonna replace that half glass of whiskey for free or what?”