Thursday, July 29, 2010


One of my husband’s complaints has always been that I’m not social enough. I’m NOT a social butterfly but I don’t necessarily see this as a flaw. I’m not opposed to all social gatherings. I’m just not interested in attending one every single weekend, both Friday and Saturday night. And I’d much prefer a small gathering over a large one. In his family that’s not always possible. Eight kids, eighteen grandchildren, assorted spouses and now one great-grandchild.

But I went to family gatherings in years past even though the sheer number of people often left me feeling a tad overwhelmed. Yes, I stopped going as frequently and eventually for good (HE had a part in SOME of that time mind you!). For various reasons that I see no point in rehashing. I blame no one and everyone. Including myself. Water under the bridge.

The point is, when I was at family gatherings I always felt this undercurrent of tension and hostility towards me. I never felt truly welcome, nor a part of the family. Again I blame no one and everyone.

I can pinpoint at least part of the reason why I perceived things the way I did. And in this instance I AM blaming someone. Him. The buffoon.

Let’s go back to Christmas Eve, 1991. He takes me to meet some of his family. Mind you we’d had our first date a mere three days before this so I barely know him at this point. As we pull up to one sister’s house he turns to me and says, “Now just so you know she can be a real bitch.” Wow.. Yeah.. I’m really looking forward to going in there NOW.

She appeared perfectly normal AND her home was spotless despite having a small baby in the house. My Mother would have approved. I said as much later to him and he said, “Oh you wait..” and kind of chuckled an almost evil chuckle. I have to tell you that single exchange left a lasting impression and tainted my view of her for some time as did the exchange outside of the next sister‘s house.

We pull up to the house and again he turns to me and says, “Ok.. So… she can be a bitch too.” But did point out that she could be a bitch in a classy way and also felt the need to tell me she had some itsy bitsy powder puff of a dog (his word -paraphrased- not mine!) AND that she gave said dog doggie downers. Zoikes!! Yeah, I’m really lookin’ forward to meeting this sister now.

Again… this sister also seemed relatively normal though I did see the aforementioned dog. Who appeared stone cold sober I might add. I did note she WAS classier than… wait… that’s going to piss someone off and I don’t mean to say that the first sister doesn’t have class… let’s say the second sister appeared more refined and leave it at that. If it pisses someone off oh well… my apologies in advance. Anywho… I again told him I didn’t understand his warnings and again got.. “Oh you wait…”, evil chuckle and all.

Did I eventually “see“? Well… let’s just say that every woman has the potential to be a bitch. And every woman will probably need to be a bitch at least a few times in her life. :) Myself included.

So.. THAT is why I lay some of the blame at the Buffoon’s feet.

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