Help Me, Obi-Wan Kenobi you`re my only hope!

Just a quick note to all my readers to say I am sorry for being out of touch for so long. I was on a self-imposed Jedi Sabbatical while I tried to work through some tough new obstacles that presented themselves in my life, in the form of my estranged husband, or as many have called him in the past, Lord Darth Vader.

Needless to say, much has been happening. I intend to post a whole story soon, and then get back to posting my usual fare of amusing stories about life and the world we all live in. Thanks for your patience and support.

Now for those men that read the last blog I did on the grass being greener on other husbands and the list who will inevitably ask me what I would offer to this illusive third husband, let me give you yet another list. Fair is fair after all and I am nothing if not honest about my own shortcomings and annoying habits.

We will start with the things you will have to live with. The things I know are weird idiosyncrasies; the flaws that make me, me. Like I said, I can point the finger at me as much as I can point it at the men I have been with and/or married in my life. So here it goes.

I am slightly obsessive-compulsive about making sure the windows and doors are closed at night, so much so I may check them at least three times, and may ask you to do so as well. After asking you, I may even get up and check anyway because unfortunately for you the last few men I lived with had a tendency to lie to me about it, so my trust isn’t exactly there.

I cannot sleep in a bed that has an open bottom. By that I mean if it isn’t a captain’s bed I tend to shove lots of stuff under the bed. The reason for this may seem silly but since I am nothing if not self-deprecating here it goes. Friday the 13^th, the original scared the hell out of me. Well actually only one scene did. The one where Kevin Bacon has just finished having sex with his girlfriend (which of course is mistake number on in those movies) and is lying in bed waiting for her to come back from the bathroom. The next thing you know Jason spears him through the neck from under his bed and kills him. Scared the bejesus out of me and I never got over it, so I always make sure no one can hide under my bed and kill me, by making sure lots of things are under there so they cant fit. By the way on a side note, is bejesus a word? Because Microsoft word says it isn’t, just curious, after all I have been using that phrase for years, so it would be nice to know.

Continuing on, strange bed thing number two. I must sleep farthest from the door. I don’t have a side per se, just as long as it is the side farthest from the door that is all I care about. Why you ask? Well, that one is easy, if a burglar or murderer comes in the house he will most likely attack the first body in the bed before the one farthest from him, which of course would be you in this scenario if you were sleeping with me. So while he is attacking you I can escape, grab the kids and survive. Now don’t worry I would call the police immediately to try and save you, but if you end of sacrificing yourself for me because you slept closest to the bedroom door, well thanks…and I’m sorry.

Ok moving on here is a list of a few other things I come with as package. I am addicted to nose spray, have been all my life, and I cannot live without it. I have bottles of it everywhere from my car, to my office, my nightstand etc. I smoke, and at the moment have no intentions to quit, and I tend to male bash in public. Now this one some men I have been with hated, but others have put up with it, because in private I was different. As long as I trusted you and felt loved and secure, my personal feelings for you would be separate from the man bashing joking I do in public. First off, I have a lot of material, as my father has stated many times in the year since my last separation I suck at picking men, so I am ripe with man bashing material. Second, its all in jest, I am funny, and I tend to be sarcastic; it is my way. As long as you know personally I love and respect you, then you shouldn’t feel upset or threatened and if you do, we don’t belong together anyway.

I hate to lose. One of my many male traits I will be the first to acknowledge I have. I play video games to win and will gladly kick your ass and dance around the room to celebrate it when I do. In the outside world I tend to be a control freak, love being in charge and voicing my opinion and getting my way. Inside however, in a relationship I tend to like the man to be in charge, it’s a nice change actually and I have a thing for being submissive in that aspect. So as long as you can handle the tough controlling attitude in public, you will reap the rewards in the bedroom. Of course most of them men I have been with loved this aspect of my personality until we were married and then suddenly expected it to end. I never understood why, but then again I gave up trying to figure men out a long time ago.

Back to those male traits of mine; I drive like Mario Andretti (does that reference date me by the way), I weave in and out of lanes, curse and gesture wildly, speed like a demon and will cut off a truckload of nuns if they are in my way. I can be loud, tend to get drunk if I am drinking, like to embarrass people I know in public for laughs from time to time, can be sexually aggressive, and can be extremely stubborn. But, once again, behind closed doors I tend to different. I have always told people I had several different personalities living inside of me all of which fight for control at different times, and I think this proves it. Behind closed doors, for a very select few people who have seen it, I am shy, quiet and like to be led. I like to be seduced and treated like a girl who knows nothing about sex. I have found very few men in my life that can deal with this duplicity in the long term. Obviously since I have been married twice and dated extensively in between, lets not go into numbers here, but its definitely double digits.

I like to look like the tough no nonsense hard ass that I like to be to everyone I meet. But I also like to be coddled and protected, taken care of, made to feel secure and safe and loved and wanted. I must stop here for a moment to dwell on the fact that I just admitted that, I don’t tell many people, I’m not really comfortable doing so, and will probably deny that I did later on. As a matter of fact, I think I will deny it now. 

Ok, since I am on a roll lets see what else I can tell you to scare you away. Well, I am stuck in the eighties as far as music is concerned, I tend to wear all my shirts low enough to show off my boobs, I have a healthy or unhealthy depending on your point of view obsession with Star Wars and you will have to deal with the fact that Harrison Ford is a god no matter how old he gets. I have at least one book in each room of my house so I can read one of them at any time. I also tend to use the back pages of said books to write down notes and telephone numbers since they are always handy. So I need to rip these out or copy the notes and scratch them off the books before I loan them to someone. I know, it would be easier to get a pad, but old habits die-hard and I have been doing this one for years.

I can be completely unreasonable when it comes to things I would like my man to do in a relationship such as, not hang his dirty underwear on my bedroom doorknob, take out the trash, mow the lawn occasionally, help keep the house looking relatively clean, and by this I mean if you see dog vomit on the carpet, don’t step over it, or better yet, put a piece of paper towel on it and then wait for me to find it and clean it up. Here’s an unreasonable pet peeve for you, please don’t clip your toenails in the living room and then put the clipped nails in the ashtray. Do you have any idea how disgusting it is to go to take a drag out of your cigarette and find your husband’s toe nail hanging from it? That one definitely ranks up there as something I rather not have to see again in my lifetime.

I like it when you actually remember my birthday once every five years or so would be fine, I don’t expect big gifts or vacations, but a card or a happy birthday would be nice. For that matter, other holidays would be nice too, Christmas, perhaps a valentines day, a mothers day, you don’t even have to do them all, one or two would be fine with me, and a nice difference from the last husband I had who boycotted all holidays, and couldn’t remember a date to save his life. I even married him on New Years Eve so he could remember the date and instead for years when someone asked him our anniversary date he would say either the 30^th or the 1^st, so much for that idea.

I like to have time to myself. This doesn’t mean I hate you, or am having an affair, it means I like to have time to myself. Whether it be to read, or surf the Internet, I like to have my me time. Of course instead of hiding away and leaving me alone forever because you are a big baby and don’t like that I like and can find things to do on my own, you could come in after a little while and see if you can peak my interest in another activity. Wow I just re-read that sentence and it is dripping with sarcasm and unchecked anger, guess I still have some issues over the last time around, then again if you knew it all I doubt you would blame me. Read the dark side blogs for some real insight into the hell that has been my life the last few years, after that you will wonder how I have managed to stay as sane and normal as I have.

Well there is my list. I know I ended up once again sarcastically bitching about men, but old habits die hard what can I say. Oh, by the way I found bejesus in the urban dictionary so I am feeling better that it is actually a word. Just wanted to let you know.

Even though I honestly don’t think I would ever get married again, I have decided to make a list of the things I would want or accept in a potential spouse, if for instance I hit my head, gain amnesia and suddenly decide to take the plunge again. So when starting a list for this new potential suitor I am in no way interested in having, it is best I think to start with things from my first two husbands and work from there. So here it goes…Help Me Obi-Wan Kenobi.

My first husband wouldn’t have known what a tool was, let alone how to use it if you paid him. My second husband was a jack-of-all-trades who could fiddle or fix anything, that is if you could get him off his ass and off the couch to do it. So for the third time around (again this is hypothetical as I am pretty sure I have not been declared insane…yet) I would like a man that falls right in between; he knows how to fix things and use tools, but will actually fix them when you ask him too.

My second husband’s idea of ending an argument was walking away and refusing to ever speak of it again..and he wondered why nothing ever got resolved. My first husband’s idea of ending an argument was to just tell me I was right whether he believed it or not, thereby ending the argument but leaving me with the feeling that I was married to myself; after all if all you are going to do is agree with me, what do I need you for. So if the urge to jump into the third time is a charm marriage ever strikes me I will be sure to find a man who can actually articulate what is on his mind whether he thinks I will agree with it or not.

My first husband was not what you would call a fighter. Besides his short stature, he just wasn’t one to get in a fight, or start one for that matter, let alone be able to win one. My second husband had a temper as Irish as the day is long and could not only start and win a fight, but thrived on releasing his temper whenever the mood struck him. So, this time, I wouldn’t mind a man, who could win a fistfight if need be, but doesn’t always feel the need to be in one just for the hell of it. In other words, let me clarify this; all the men in my second husband`s family tended to fight first and ask questions later, and that was never more apparent than at his grandmother`s funeral. Before I re-tell this story please believe me it is 100% true, I was there, I saw it all, and no this time no embellishment is necessary, the real story is good enough on its own. 

His father who was close to his mother, had stopped speaking and cut off ties with his sister, brother and father years, decades earlier over the fact that their father had one day just walked out without the mothers knowledge, took all the money and items from the house and was never seen again. He did this so he could move in with his much, much younger girlfriend and move into a nudist colony with her in Florida, right after he got his penile implant. Now, yes for those that are wondering, I did know this story before I married into this family, like I said before, I may even be beyond Obi-Wan`s help.

Anyway, the point of this lovely story was that years later at the mother’s funeral the above mentioned sister and brother showed up at their mother’s funeral. My husband`s father decided that he would not allow them to see her, after all they had stayed in communication with the father, whom my father-in-law felt was the devil. So to prevent them from seeing her, he slammed the top of the casket down on his mother, and started a fight that eventually led to the funeral home staff calling the police. I know, sounds like an episode of the Jerry Springer show, it was, welcome to my entire married life. Anyway, my point was, anything in between slamming caskets down and having cops at a funeral and dropping to the ground and sacrificing yourself without even some resistance is what I would be looking for.

Now as for the ever-important sex; well both of my husbands were very similar in that aspect, which is odd since in all other aspects they were complete opposites, even physically. But sex wise, both of my husbands were less experienced than me, neither were very aggressive let alone creative. So for that illusive third time, that believe me I will not be experiencing, he would have to be assertive, passionate, creative and at ease being in charge. A little rough and tumble play, maybe some handcuffs, a little food from the fridge, perhaps dress up like Indiana Jones whip and all wouldn’t be too bad either. Han Solo, Darth Vader any of these would be fine….to give my second husband his due, he was good at the Darth vader impression, in an dout of bed, but that`s a story for another time. 

Well there is the list, at least for now. I am sure if I put my mind to it I could think of some more requirements, like being human which I am pretty sure the first one was, but the second one; well that is still up for debate, I’ll have to get back to you on that. So, if you happen to know him, the man described above, let me know, if I happen to have just gotten out of a coma and am desperately drunk and completely high I may marry him.

So in homage to Gilbert and Sullivan and the Mikado and because I was bored and thought I would do this for the fun of it, Here is my version of the song The List, of what I do not want, nor will put up with anymore.  

There’s the man who cannot put the toilet seat down, nor change a roll of toilet paper he always makes me frown, the man who insists he knows it all, but cannot “man up” and say he’s sorry, I’ve got them on my list, I’ve got them on my list. There’s the man who seems to know where his penis needs to go, but cannot take care of the children that come from his seed flow, the man who cannot tell the truth unless he is in pain, the man who changes personalities more than the insane, I’ve got them on my list, they are all on my list.

The man who wouldn’t know a tool if it bit him in the ass, the man who feels the need to yell to prove he has no class. The man who expects everything be given to him when he refuses to give something in return, I’ve got them on my list, I’ve put them on my list. The man who doesn’t understand remembering my birthday would be nice, the man who throws his life away on drugs not once but twice, the man who wants all the fun but no responsibility, the man who couldn’t clean a thing without a drag out fight ensuing, I’ve got him on my list, I’ve got them on my list.

And finally the man who doesn’t know how to take charge, or the man who feels the need to berate to make himself feel large, I’ve got them on my list, I’ve got them all on my list. Ok so it didn’t all rhyme but you try it, that song is not easy to do! Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you`re my only hope. 

The grass is always greener on other people’s husbands. Did you ever notice that? I cannot tell you how many people, friends, relatives, acquaintances would come up to me over the years, telling me what a great guy my second husband was; so helpful and sweet. I would look at these people like they had ten heads, and this was before he became a drug addict. Are you kidding? It takes me two months just to get him to mow the lawn. We lived in our home for ten years and he still couldn’t remember which night the garbage went out without me telling him. The entire time I was married to him, I think he replaced the toilet paper roll correctly twice, and that might even be an exaggeration. Sure, he would open a new one, although only out of necessity, but he would place the new roll on top of the old empty one and walk out of the room. Apparently, taking the other one off, throwing it in the garbage pail and putting on the new one would have taken too much time out of his busy schedule of not mowing the lawn or taking out the garbage.

I bring this up of course, because I am just as guilty over the grass is always greener on other people’s husband’s phenomenon. I have told my girlfriends plenty of times in the past how great their husband is, or isn’t he nice to do this or that, when in reality I know from talking with my girlfriends that they are just as annoying and incompetent in their own ways as my husbands were. Yet, I say it anyway, and why, because the things that they did that drove their wives nuts didn’t really bother me, and of course the things that my husband’s did that bothered me were things that really didn’t irk my girlfriends. So I guess my point is like hair, women always want what other women have.

Of course being divorced now again, I have to say, although I enjoy men’s company in many facets, I actually have been enjoying being without one more than I can even tell you. It’s nice to wake up and not roll over to the pillow next to you which is so covered in sweat you would swear you were in that scene in Airplane where the “sweat” is pouring off the pilots head. Then you get up disgusted and feeling gross to find someone’s underwear hanging your bedroom doorknob.

It’s fantastic to ask my son to take out the garbage and miracle upon miracles he actually does it, and on the first time I ask him too! Of course to be honest, I lived with those small annoyances, we all do, it was the big things like the drug use, stolen money and no job that I couldn’t live with; how unreasonable of me.

One of my friend’s husbands is very obsessive compulsive, and she hates it, it drives her insane. I would take that in a heartbeat over the “Yeah, yeah I know the ceiling is caving in, don’t worry I will get to it soon” attitude my last husband had, or the, “I’ll call the repair man to come glue that corner of wallpaper that is falling off on the kitchen wall, because I have never seen a tool in my life” attitude my first husband had. But she would take a little laziness and nonchalant attitude over problems in the house over what she lives with any day of the week. Perhaps we women could get together and rotate husbands every once in a while, give us a chance to see it from the other side.

I know I say his obsessive-compulsive behavior would be a welcome new breeze, but after awhile, I would probably hate it to, after all we are women, we do tend to change our minds after. Perhaps like wife swap we could do a month to month rotation, this could be a good thing for the men as well. After all, after a month with another husband, when you get yours back you will most likely be glad to see him….most likely.  Maybe I should have married Obi-Wan. Of course, if I lived in an alternate reality where Star Wars characters were real, I would marry Han Solo hands down. After all Princess Leia is a tiny little thing, I could take her.  

I have decided to start a new class for men about being the kind of husband that won’t drive your wife crazy.  After all, when we are not going crazy because of you, we are sweet and attentive, we don’t get “on your back” about doing things, and we actually want to spend time with you, imagine that! So really the husband is the one who wins out in the end if he would just learn and implement some basic tools. Honestly, read on, I’m not asking for much here and if I am help me Obi-Wan maybe you can get through to them.

Lesson #1 – In the bathroom, there is this thing that is called a toilet paper holder. It is usually situated beside or across from the toilet bowl itself. This device is not self-filling. It cannot grow arms and go under the sink take out the next role of tissue and put it on all by itself. It actually needs your help. If you are the one that uses the last piece of toilet paper, you open the cabinet, take out a new role, (now here comes the tricky part, at least for my last husband anyway, since he never seemed to get farther than this and then would lay it on the sink for the next person) rip off the paper, take the old roll off, throw it out, slide on the new roll and put it back on the holder. That’s it, you’re all done, and amazingly here is the best part, you have just stopped your wife from having to yell at you for the 498,235 time about not replacing the roll of toilet paper, which is after all what you husbands always say you want, peace and no “nagging”. Now, wasn’t that easy!!

Lesson #2 – Occasionally you may notice that your underwear, socks, belt, maybe even your shoes are missing, or worse yet hanging from the tree in the back yard. There is a reason for this. It is not a Poltergeist, nor has there been a tornado. It was your wife. I am now going to give you the secret to avoiding this potentially embarrassing scenario, (and yes, it could be embarrassing especially if the only tree you have to hang underwear on is in your front yard). PICK UP YOUR STUFF!! Wow, I bet you didn’t know that it would be that easy. You must be so relieved to find out just how simple it is to avoid this problem. I mean, who would have thought that you could avoid not only yet again being “nagged “ by your wife, but that you would also be contributing to the aesthetic feel of your home, and avoiding your neighbor coming by wondering how your underwear ended up in his yard!

Lesson #3 – Nowadays technology has made life for everyone a little easier, and so it is as well for men. Guys, you no longer have an excuse for forgetting things like your wife’s birthday, your anniversary, Mother’s Day!!. With cell phones, palm pilots, blackberries and more, you could potentially have these dates stored in several different places and devices, so there is no longer a viable excuse as to why you not only didn’t remember, but didn’t buy anything either. So in this lesson, I will teach you how to avoid one of the biggest mistakes men make, and one of the biggest fights a couple can have. Remember her birthday!! Christmas, and Valentine’s Day are easy, between everyone talking about them, and all the stores decorating for them, you know they are coming, but her birthday isn’t a National event (although I think mine should be) so you need to remember on your own. So pick up your blackberry, your phone, and your palm pilot, and start entering in reminders. Three weeks before the date, two weeks before the date, one week before the date, four days before the date, etc. etc, I think you get the point. If you want to claim you just have bad memories that’s fine, I’ll let you have that (I don’t believe it, but I’ll let you have it) but with these devices now you have no excuse. So when the reminder bell goes off, go buy a gift and give it to her. Leave it on her pillow in the morning, surprise her, (believe me I would be so surprised I might not be able to awake from the shock) and you’ll be very pleasantly surprised to see a very warm, and gracious woman waiting for you at the door when you come home that night.

Lesson #4 – OK, this is the last lesson for today, not the last lesson I will ever give, (so stop jumping up for joy, boys) but the last lesson for today. Now this is specifically for husbands who are also fathers. Women sort of understand, (although they are not thrilled about this I assure you), that they are responsible for a much larger percent of the child care, house care and overall daily lives of the family. Now, in some respects I don’t mind this at all; I love my children too much to make them spend too much time alone with their father; however there are times when the husband could help out, a little, just a touch…ok once in a blue moon? 

Here’s a scenario. Your wife is sick, she has been in bed for three days and finally has enough energy to get up and go take a shower. As she saunters out of the bedroom, still delirious from fever, she finds you in the living room, sitting in your underwear, playing video games with the children. Ok fine, at least you are keeping them occupied and spending quality time with them, but what you apparently don’t notice, and your poor sick wife does, is the pile of dirty clothes on the living room floor, the remains of something the dog ate laying on the couch, the children are still in their pajamas, and it is 2:30 in the afternoon, the shades have not been opened, the sink is full of dishes, the garbage is literally crawling out the door on its own, and you look like you have not been groomed since the late 80`s.

Now, for some reason, here is my favorite part! When your wife starts yelling, you seem surprised! Come on now, I know you know the place is a mess, and I know you know that your wife would never keep it that way if you were sick, so why act surprised. Here` s a secret between you and me, that surprise thing just makes her even more mad than she was when she opened the back door to let the garbage escape on its own. If you’re in charge, be in charge. I’m not asking you to clean the way your wife does, you cant, you’re a husband and not genetically able to its not your fault, but come on, you know you don’t have to be that bad. So, the next time this scenario pops into your life, hopefully you will clean the house, dress the kids, maybe stop the dog from eating your wedding album, and shave once in awhile, before you sit down to play video games with your children. You will once again be amazed at how nice your wife will be to you and how you will be rewarded in the end. Amazing, if you had only known before that you could actually stop your wife from yelling at you by doing these simple things, you could have had a peaceful marriage years ago!!

P.S. – Please guys don’t send me hate mail telling me I am a female chauvinist or, that I am selling you all too short. This is a humor column, although not all of it is said in jest (ok, ok, I know, I know I can’t help myself), please take it in the spirit it was written. Gentle jibes and humorous anecdotes are all that get me through the day, I have been married twice, 17 years between my two marriages, so cut me a little slack!!