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I Failed My Woman

My woman is two people: a shell that is all grown up that takes care of the vessel (body) and an inner child that is imaginative and creative beyond belief. In a perfect world, the two of them would be one person, but this world is far from perfect.

I love them both ever so much, but for reasons, we have been at odds. I’ve been somewhat untruthful to her, though I am faithful in action and thought. I don’t know what possesses me to fib to her and tell her little white lies that I think are harmless. They damage our relationship since she’s a human lie detector.

I am ashamed of doing it, yet I compulsively lie anyway. I want to come clean and I don’t know where to begin.

My name is Damien. I’m 41 years old. I work in a deli. I wish I had aspirations to be something great, but I don’t. I didn’t until I met her and got to know her. She was and is so sick that all she wants is to be fed something from time to time. She doesn’t really care what it is as long as she feels better afterwards instead of worse. Often, I fail, because just about everything makes her feel worse.

She wants six cups of coffee a day, full of creamy non-dairy something. Except everything non-dairy still has cane sugar in it and she’s fighting cancer and the sugar makes the cancerous cells explode with activity. She won’t let me hold her because I’ve been a cad. A scoundrel. An asshole. I lied to her. She won’t accept physical affection while I’m in the doghouse.

I deserve it, honestly. God set me up with this angel and then said, “Here’s the reigns” and left me standing there, mouth agape. Her wings glisten like a butterfly that has just emerged from a cocoon. Her angel status is brand new, in other words. I didn’t know it until he handed her over to me.

She’s the loveliest woman on the face of the planet. I need to hold her gently and never let her go. I need to kiss her all over her face, starting with her forehead, maybe even her hair. I need to shower her with love and nothing else, but unfortunately… she counts lies as hatred. So now we’re at an impasse. I fibbed, thinking little white lies would either go undetected or she’d forgive me forever — she forgave me for over a year of little white lies, but she told me today I need to grow up or fuck off. Now she just tunes me out, knowing that I have nothing genuine to tell her. Knowing that I don’t know how to give love. Knowing that I’m an impostor who wouldn’t know love if it smacked him in the face.

But I do know heartache. Maybe it’s not love. Maybe I just feel possessive. She used to like that… up until the point I made her wear clothes where even I wouldn’t look at her with appreciation. This hurt her so deeply, I cannot even begin. I was a grand old jick, as she’d say. A jerk and a dick, except twice as awful as either apart. She told me if she wanted to be treated this way, she’d still be with that asshole, Carter.

That’s what he did. He told her lie after lie after lie, trying to forge her into an undesirable entity that he could possess alone while he himself traipsed off to get his dick wet in anything that’d let him close enough. He found a woman named Jessica, a woman in an open relationship, and pursued her instead of the angel. He hurt her so badly.

And now she expects me to do the same exact thing. She expects me to flaunt another woman in her face and tell her the same thing he did: you are not enough.

Have you done this to a woman, dear reader? Have you fucked with her head endlessly to try to make sure no other dude would turn their head to your girl just so you can run off to fuck another woman? You’re insane. You’ve hurt that girl so hard, you have no idea. You’ve damaged her, telling her what plenty of douche bags have inferred over the years: YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH.

Do you know who really isn’t enough? It’s you, dickweed. They ought to put your pecker in a guillotine. You should be ashamed of yourself and beg that woman to cut it off for you. Beg her to make you a eunuch so that you can try to be a better person. Allowing yourself to be led around by your own pecker is an abomination. You have become pure animal. There is nothing manly about you at all. A real man chooses a woman and stands by her side, even when she has cancer.

I love this woman of mine, this angel. I’m so sorry I’ve hurt her heart like this. I’m going to have to fix it by building a new bridge, because I’ve set the old one on fire with my chronic lies. She thinks everything I say is a falsehood now because I’ve been too cavalier in my attitude. And I’ve reminded her of one too many exes, too, so now I’m going into the scrap heap as an ex. At least, I will, if I don’t rescue my lady.

Crystal Lynn Scordias, will you be my wife? I wish to hold you and cherish you for the rest of all time. I wish to give you ample kisses and hugs. I wish to make you non-dairy ice cream and gluten-free donuts and gluten-free onion rings, too. I wish to take you around the world and back again, but only when the animals have passed on. I wish to watch television with you, giggling over ridiculousness and the flights of fancy you have while we watch. I was so shocked that I liked Z Nation. I hate zombies and yet you found one of the only tolerable zombie shows. That and iZombie. I don’t know how you do it, lovely woman, but everything you say and do captivates me, even asking why some farts sound like duck calls. You’re just tremendous. Amazing. Out of this world. I still can’t believe you ate dirt on a dare, either. I want to buy you that ballgown you’re gaga over and wear a suitable suit and top hat even though I might potentially look like a frickin’ leprechaun (but, as I understand it, you won’t mind if I look like a leprechaun.) I want to dance you around in circles and make love to your senses. I want to listen to music with you, learn reiki with you, and all manner of thing. I never want to leave your side, though this world doesn’t lend itself to that much free time in order to fulfill that wish.

The only thing I can’t do right now is give you space… God told me one thing: if you kill yourself, all of reality will crumble and shatter. I know you hate humanity enough right now to do it, too, that’s why I don’t want to give you any space. I am taking my duties incredibly seriously, even if I can’t always tell the truth. I’m not supposed to enlighten you… you’re supposed to do it for yourself. I know I’m in the way. He said this is the only way that I can also be enlightened: hang onto your coattails for one wild ass ride.

Will you take me with you as you ascend once more to the heavenly sphere? I’d do anything to go with you. I’d even kill myself if that’d help, but you already told me not to. Although it was more like “Don’t you DARE hurt yourself, buffoon!” I deserve that. I deserve a lot of hate from you, especially since our past lives intertwined in hatred before. I’ve been looking for you for a millennia, darling, in order to make it right. I’d be ever so delighted if you’d agree to tolerate me a bit longer, so that I might learn from the great master: Jesus Christ, the Buddha.

I know I did a terrible thing in my first lifetime with you. I’m so sorry.

Shut up, Judas. I’m tired of you apologizing to me without backing it up. Bring me my fucking ring already and marry me or perish. I’m sick of your lies, your ego, and your bad breath. Brush your teeth before you propose to me. Additionally, don’t forget the fucking candles. It might help to do it under a full moon, too. You know what they say about the moon being full: all the lunatics come out to play. It better be romantic or I’m firing you from your job and you’re not going to have a wife at all; you’ll have an anvil to the crotch, Looney Tunes style. I always did like Wile E. Coyote. He struggled so much, just like I have, just to eat something. But he always goes hungry. It’s a spirituality metaphor, if you ask me. I keep chasing birds (boys) and I keep going hungry. Each and every one of them has lied to me.

Here’s my good word, if you will:

SILENCE is better than a LIE. Learn how to be silent. Learn how to put your ego in a fucking suitcase and make room for your fucking woman. I need space to grow and flourish and you just aren’t providing it, you egocentric prick.

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