My ex-boyfriend emailed me this quaint little website about himself and his new fiance, with all the information for their wedding. It has both of "their" stories on how they met, and how they felt about each other. With quirky little biographies on each of them, it is just adorable.
So adorable, I would vomit if I was said fiance, which probably explains a lot about why I'm not.
The ex and I have remained friends over the years, as we broke up over issues neither one of us were willing to resolve. The biggest problem between us came down to one word: family.
You could not find two different families if you tried. My family is full of free spirit overachievers. We like to celebrate, and can get kind of decadent. My Father is a Cherokee Indian, and my Mother is Irish. Both were raised with some rather non-traditional religious teachings. While both are somewhat considered somewhere in the "Christian" vein, they both were raised with a lot of pagan type beliefs.
The ex's family is a GW Bush wet dream. Strict Lutherans, conservative to the hilt, and blantantly against anyone who does not follow their beliefs.
Needless to say, they didn't like me. Not one bit. My family didn't particularly care for him either.
He though the people in family were crazy, and I thought his family were bible thumping lunatics.
The first time I met them I saw the horror in his Mother's face, even though she didn't know much about me or my beliefs. I was this curvy blonde chicky, and you could just see her looking at me like I was the cause of all sin in this world.
I can never remember a time in my life when I felt more uncomfortable
The visit had lasted all of 5 minutes when she said we needed to have a "girl talk".
So we went into the kitchen were I was questioned with the skill of a hardened police detective. Mostly about religion, and man did she not like my answers.
This is when the ultimatum came. She told me, in no uncertain terms, that if I were to ever marry her son the only way we would be "allowed" to have children is if I converted to the Lutheran Church and raised my children with those values.
The whole on your best behavior because you are meeting your significant other's parents for the first time went flying out the window at the speed of light.
I told her, in no uncertain terms, that my children would be raised to have an open mind and would be allowed to decide for their self what they chose to believe, and that she wouldn't have a thing to say about it.
This did not go over well. That first visit was a total nightmare, and it lasted for two long days. I then found out that his older brother had married a Jewish girl, and that he got clipped to insure that he wouldn't have children to make his parents happy.
Did I fall into some parallel universe that is behind the times like 200 years??? Much to my horror, I found out that I would be sleeping in a closet (yes, I said closet) next to the parents bedroom so they could keep an "eye" on me at night, even though there were 4 (count 'em 4) extra bedrooms open.
I have never been so happy when we drove away the next morning. We were supposed to stay most of the day, but I think the ex understood that I could not take anymore.
We drove most of the three hour drive in silence, as I am sure I was experiencing post traumatic stress syndrome.
The ex was not like this, not at all. He was an open-minded individual, an artist. Many times on that trip I started to speak, only to just close my mouth. None of this added up in my brain. It was like adding 2 + 2 and getting 7.
It basically came down to this. He respected his parents beliefs, and he would follow what they wanted when he had children. They would most definitely disown him if he didn't, and he couldn't take that.
We both new that a future would not be in store for us, but we still loved each other. All in all, we stayed together about another 9 months after that. I came up with every excuse in the book to not spend any significant amount of time with his family, as he did with mine.
To be fair and to tell his side, to him, we had to be a bunch of nutballs. My Mom would light different candles to bring certain "energies" to the house. The parental units had outrageous parties with everyone from community leaders to bikers. He often would ask if we ever got married would it include a live chicken sacrifice.
I was the one that ended it, as I could see the toll the pressure was taking on him. His parents constantly bombarded him with negative things about me, and it was tearing him apart.
I remember once when I was at his apartment his Mom called. He let the answering machine pick it up. She stated the requisite just calling to see how you are doing, and finished the message with "I hope you will consider our last conversation and have broken up with that slut" or something to that effect. It may not be the exact words, but she did use the word slut.
Real Christian like, eh?
When we broke up he got the hell out of dodge and moved to New York to direct some play. In the end, he found a nice Lutheran girl, and started working for some bible type company doing marketing. So much for his dreams of being a director.
We've kept in touch through emails and phone conversations over the years, and I have been deeply disappointed by his choices in life. Even though my family might have traumatized him also, I still get the feeling that he fit in with us a hell of a lot better then his own.
Then comes the announcement of the engagement. I was truly happy for him until I read the cheesy ass website and her bio. She's a mousy brunette, and during a tale of how they met, she described how she had to "eliminate" some of the creative people around him as they were bad influences.
He still invited me to the wedding, and I truly was debating on whether I was going to go or not. Ex was an important part of who I am. I grew a lot when I was with him, and he showed me that there is a reason to have faith in men.
I didn't have to make a decision, as it was made for me. His Mother found out I was invited, and probably almost had an aneurysm. She talked to wifey-poo to be, and she gave Ex her own ultimatum. I was not to be at their wedding. Period.
I doubt I would have went anyway, as I don't usually put myself in the middle of uncomfortable situations on purpose. I know that was a hard phone call to make for him, and even harder still, that we were not to communicate anymore.