Why My Marriage is Failing



It’s time to write some of the hardest parts of my blog. The parts about my marriage and what went wrong. Or at least my side of things.

I’m sorry I have hurt my wife. She is really a sweet, intelligent person and I still believe she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever met. When she was younger her hair was black and silky as a raven’s wing. And her skin, to me, looked and tasted like coffee with milk and sugar. Cafe au lait.

Unfortunately, we are opposites. Extrovert. Introvert. Talker. Non talker.

When you are young and in love the differences are cute. Yes, opposites do attract. But over time, after you have kids, and bills, and mortgages, and sick pets, and fractious in-laws the differences can start driving you apart. That is what happened to us.

I was a poor kid you married a girl from the other side of the tracks. My single mother could barely keep the lights on and the car repossession man from the front door. My wife’s mother was a stay-at-home mom who had dinner waiting on her when she came home from school. And a vacation home on the Vineyard to laze away her summer days.

My wife never had to worry about money or exert herself too much. There was always someone to look after her. “You have trouble with the boss at your summer job honey? You don’t have to work. Quit that job. Just stay home and go to the beach with me.”

So when I married her I kept doing the same thing.

I gave up a promising job in another state and moved back to our home city because her parents said her career was more important. I taught her to cook better, I washed clothes, I made sure we had one of the best looking yards in the neighborhood, I made sure to pitch in and help as much as I could with the kids, I was far more active than her in the church she chose. I was the leader in decorating the house and paid the bills and handled the finances because she didn’t like the hassle.

I arranged 90 percent of our social events because she had few friends and had difficulty making them. In fact, my friends and family called her uppity and aloof…”seditty.” But I was devoted to her and ignored them.

Then one day she quit her job and became an at-home Mom for three years because she said she really didn’t like her career — she had only majored in that subject in college because her father had wanted her to. So I gritted my teeth and worked harder at my job and kept paying the bills. But deep down I was getting resentful and feeling used.

And it seemed like when I had crises in my life she would come into the picture only after I had done most the work to get the problem resolved or would just be there. I just never felt like I had a partner. I wanted a “Gangsta Bitch,” the type of black woman who would be fighter in my corner and watch my back.

Shit, I had to fight for her. My wife never fought for herself and our kids soon learned to play with her emotions to get what they wanted. I remember having to call her hairdresser and cussing him out when she came home with her hair fucked up. Instead of speaking up about the bad service she just walked out of the hairdresser with her head wet after paying him $200 for the privilege. After I told him off she went back the next day and he did it right. I had threatened to come down and tear his head off if he didn’t.

But she was a grown woman. Why did I have to do that for her? I had seen my aunts and my mom back off grown men twice their size so I knew women could manage their lives and stand up for themselves as well as or better than men.

So down-low sex, which had just been a curiosity, became my escape valve. I could go to a dude, sit back and unzip my fly, pull out the dick, and let him suck the frustrations and boredom I faced out of my marriage right out of me.

My wife have been in therapy and all our issues — my sexuality and her introvert nature — are out on the table.

But I am so frustrated with her it is hard to be patient while she learns to be more assertive and develop self confidence she never learned from her parents. Plus, I discovered she is co-dependent and a raving passive aggressive. What the fuck is that, I wondered? Then I googled and found out what those terms mean and why she had me so frustrated in our marriage.

On the flip side our therapist tells me I am using down-low sex to escape the reality of marriage. Kind of like the way a drug addict uses crack.

But now I’m wonder whether this alternative, down-low reality I’ve created for myself is really me. Maybe I would be more happy dealing with a man than a woman.