I love you, because you’re an Alcoholic

Wow.  Just think…two people in a relation together.  One, the younger of the two, repressed being on the other side of the fence his entire childhood, marrying two women.  The first only used him to get out of Dodge, never wanting children.  Knowing all along.  The second and final one actually bore him two beautiful boys.  Little did she know that his bouts with alcohol and mental hotels would reveal his innermost desires.
     You can say this revelation was made during a ‘counseling’ session.  Maybe it was just the excuse he needed  to vent.  She wasn’t the apple of his eye.    Never was.  Save, she always felt like the queen she always felt she deserved to be due to all his hard work and determination.  As the money pot drew larger, the grander her lifestyle became.  She knew.  Could it have been the blackouts and crying spells that caused her to worry?  She knew.  She just didn’t want to hear it.  Or, the lady needed an audience to help her exit.  Either way, she abandoned him at his lowest point.  Clearing out the bank accounts, taking the house.  Sending him back home to his alcoholic mom and dad.  Back to where it all began.  Home.  Without the children he so required to put a stop to all the whispers, the giggles, the obvious speculation that he was and is what they all thought he was, Gay.
     There, the spiral strengthened.  The mom grew angrier and more violent regarding the end result of her life.  The life of any party was hers, just as long as a pretty woman was present along with an abundance of wine.  She wanted to forget she was married and her god-awful role as a housewife.  Outbursts in the household, tickets, arrests made it all too easy to file divorce papers after 47 years of marriage.  How dare anyone say it was a happy period just because four kids were produced.  Somehow, her husband convinced himself that it was all her fault.  Though, witnessings many acts of abuse on their children, he did nothing to stop it.  His reasoning, as of today, he didn’t want the family to be broken apart.  She hated her life.  And she would let everybody know it by wearing the pants in that family.
     Dad drank himself to sleep.  Yet, whenever he felt frisky, she would oblige him once he made it into her den of dementia.  After, he would retreat to his bedroom…until his alarm clock went off.
     Now, not everyday with his mom was turbulent.  They were truly best friends.  They drank together, watched movies together, and told each other secrets.  Secrets.  Intimate secrets.

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