The first marriage

So anyway...

We dated for what felt like a long time. He was my first date, my first kiss, my first boyfriend...my first...everything.

Butch turned out to be a pretty good guy. He was very respectful, and he seemed to honestly love me.

As far as I knew at that time, Scott was not interested (see previous post), and there were no other contenders, so I just enjoyed the fact that Butch seemed really smitten with me.

Then, one day, while we were participating in the frenzy of getting ready for Butch's sister's impending wedding, he proposed.

It sort of blind sided me. I wasn't in love with the guy. But there were no other contenders.

I loved him as best I could, and he was so good to me at that time.

I thought about my options.

I was about to graduate from Jr. College, I worked at the local public library, and lived at home with mom and dad.

I had saved my money from work, and had bought a car, but the likelihood of being able to finish college was very, VERY slim.

Reagan was president, and there had been HUGE cuts to education funding.

Despite my family's best efforts to get financial aid so I could finish school, we were turned down at every spot along the way. We couldn't even get loans.

There was no money, period, and I'd have to work for a several years, saving every penny, and continue to live at home, before I could even think about going on with my undergrad education.

I was really tired of living at home with mom and dad. They both smoked like chimneys, drank like fish, and I was becoming someone who was heavily into natural health, whole foods, and a healthy lifestyle. I felt stifled and uncomfortable living at home.

I was 20 years old, and ready to roll!

SO, I saw an opportunity. And I accepted the proposal. I wasn't in love, but I was ready to roll!

My mother was livid. She had always referred to Butch as "the idiot," and she really wanted me to finish school.

My dad was patient and full of calm advice.

"What if you get pregnant? What if he loses his job? He doesn't have an education, either. You have to think about all of those things. You're very young, and you might be making a very big mistake.
I think your mother's right this time."

But I was ready to roll. SO, I rolled.

We got married that fall, after I'd turned 21. It was tough, but we got along great, and, somehow, we actually survived!!

(I never did finish school...it's just too expensive!)

Cut to about 4 years later.

Butch had lost his job at the office supplies store, and had been through several jobs, ultimately winding up at a lumber store (where, as I hear it, he still works).

I'd left my job at the library, and had gone through a few office jobs, in search of something that paid better, and had discovered that what I really wanted to do, was become a massage therapist, and work in the healing arts.

Butch had started to become VERY interested in marijuana. Not just a casual user. He was completely addicted.

He started to drink. A lot.

He started to write bad checks to get cash to make purchases of illegal substances.

And, the worst part, he started to withdraw, and let his personality change. He became moody, and distant, and emotionally crippled.

In 1997, while my father was dying of cancer, Butch actually YELLED at me, because I asked him to take time off from his FUN activities, to come and help me care for my dying father.

It was in that moment, in 1997, after 14 years of marriage, that I knew the marriage was over. It just took me a few more years to act on it.

But first, let me say that by the time we had been married that first 4 years, we had become room mates.
He continued to become more deeply addicted, and to be more involved with his pot head friends and their favorite activity, frisbee golf.

I'd really like to make this short and sweet.

I worked really hard at trying to keep our marriage alive. I got us involved in things I hoped we would do together (including, but not limited to, working at the Renaissance Faire), and he just became addicted to those things.
I joined Al-Anon.
I went to therapy.
I talked BUTCH into finding a therapist! HE WENT TO THERAPY, and became addicted to therapy!!

None of it did any good, and ultimately, I was the only one still working on the marriage.

So, by 1997, we'd been sleeping in separate rooms for 10 years, living separate lives, even after we bought a house (I did all of the house hunting on my own, and paid the down payment with money left me by my grandmother), there just wasn't a real marriage there anymore.

It doesn't work when only one person is trying.

SO, as our 17th wedding anniversary approached, in 2000, I filed for divorce.

(an example of how much Butch had changed: he once was very loving and kind to everyone he knew, ESPECIALLY me...but when we were in the process of mediation, I found a lump in my left breast. Do you want to know what he was most concerned about? That the breast lump would make his insurance premiums go up. He actually tried to have me taken OFF of his insurance before I could go for my biopsy, so that I would have to pay for all of my bills out of my own pocket....fortunately for me, that was illegal, and he was not able to DO IT!!)

Anyway, we underwent voluntary mediation, agreeing on everything BEFORE it ever went to the judge. This was my idea, and my lawyer agreed.

Everything was amicable and even. He agreed that it was best, now, even though he said he had NO IDEA that anything was even wrong when I told him I wanted a divorce.

How he could have had no idea, I will never know. We never saw eachother! We never did anything together. There had not been sex for 3 years, because he was impotent.

And before that, it was maybe once every 18 months or so, and most of those attempts failed for the same reason!

So, after we completed mediation, Butch didn't have to DO anything, which was just how he liked it....he didn't even have to show up in court.

So he didn't.

He signed the papers at our kitchen table, and went out to play frisbee golf and get stoned with his buddies.

The house was sold, the belongings divided...and we both had a place to go.

And, just like that....it was over.