Posts Tagged abuse

Piece of Ass

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am definitely not a prude.  If someone was to call me a “piece of ass” I’d take it as a compliment, because your average 20-40 year old guy probably uses the term more often than not, and not in a derogatory way – its just merely a way of them saying that  the woman who has caught their eye – is sexy.   But there is a time and a place for everything, and there is also a way of saying it that can turn a simple phrase into something vulgar and disgusting.

EmCee has a way of offending me with his comments.  Deep down in my heart, I know that’s just the way he is – as my dear (deceased) grandmother would say, “He’s crude, rude and uncouth.”  (Mind, you she never met EmCee, but I know that famous phrase of hers would have been uttered if she met him).

So EmCee is a little rough around the edges sometimes.  I know he doesn’t always mean what he says.  I know he’s not the roses and romance type.  I knew this when I married him.

But after nearly 10 years of being together, you would think he would know me well enough to know what to say to get laid.

Tuesday night (Jan 18, 2011) I was watching TV, one of my favorite shows, The Good Wife.  After it was over EmCee starts flipping through the DVR and puts on the Playboy show Foursome.  I sit idly by, on the couch, watching not for the sex, but gawking at the stupidity of the episode’s cast.  After that show finished, EmCee pulls out a bag full of porn videos (that he picked up from his friend) and proceeds to put one in.

I start to doze off on the couch, after all it’s nearly 1 am and I was tired from working all day (and subsequently doing the household chores, dinner, homework and such).  But God forbid, I tell EmCee I am tired and want to go to sleep, he pouts like a 2 year old.

At 1:30 am as I am napping (I wouldn’t call it sleep), I get woken up, “Let me see that ass of yours.”

Excuse me?  The mere words disgust me.  Now, I understand every couple has 3 stages of sex – fucking (when you just have to have your partner for a quick romp), sex (when you just want sex and you love your partner) and making love (you know the soft sweet, kiss you all night, caress you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear).   Mind you, EmCee has only 1 version of sex in his repertoire – and that’s fucking.

Usually, our sex session will consist of: EmCee expecting a blow job – a blow job is his idea of foreplay and he gives nothing in return to arouse me or get me interested.  After he gets a little head, he then expects to fuck and everytime he tries to have anal sex with me (which at this point, I flat out refuse to give into).  Once he’s done fucking me and is ready to “bust a nut” (as he so eloquently calls it) he pulls out, cums on some body part and then walks out to clean himself up.

While I am left in the bed, unfulfilled, unsatisfied and left holding the vibrator to please myself.  That’s just a saying, not that I’m using a vibrator while he fucks me (I’m usually just praying that he finishes up quickly), but the point is, if I want to orgasm, at this point, I need to use a vibrator because EmCee is done “working”.  He will then lay on the bed, smoke a cigarette and watch TV ignoring me.

So then what’s the point of me having sex with him?  Give me one good reason why, I should have sex with him, when sex is a one way street?

And I’ve told him, time and time again, if you want to get me interested, why don’t you initiate sex, you know, touch me, talk to me, kiss me, go down on me (oral sex), do something … just don’t expect me to give you a blow job and get in the mood without even warming me up!  His response usually is, well I kiss you and you pull away, I try to touch you and you don’t like it, I’ve tried to give you oral sex and you don’t like it.

Yes, EmCee that’s because your level of enthusiasm for doing any of those things is rated at a -10 (negative).  You don’t put any effort into it.  I think you rather eat a bowl of spaghetti than touch me or try to arouse me.

So when EmCee tells me, “Let me see that ass of yours.” It’s no wonder why I am unresponsive.  Whenever we have sex it’s not pleasurable for me.  It’s boring, routine and quite frankly, I feel that I am just being used.  That’s not love.  Maybe in his head that’s love, but it’s not for me, not anymore.  I refuse to be used as a “Piece of Ass.”

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He Needed To Be Taught A Lesson

I’m not sure who acts like more of a child sometimes, my 42 year old husband or my 6 year old son.  Actually, I think my 6 year old is more mature sometimes than my husband.  Tonight, he did it again.  Not LittleG, EmCee of course!

And of course, EmCee’s behavior was justified because it was a result of our son’s actions and my (emotional, bitchy period) reactions.

I came home after a long day of work, and immediately headed to the kitchen to cook dinner.  Funny how I’m married to a husband who has a degree in Culinary Science and yet, never cooks a meal!

I told LittleG, “You’ve watched TV and played video games all day at Mommy’s store, now it’s time to sit down and do your homework.  THEN you can watch TV.”

(Put on repeat 3x times)

Finally, LittleG sat down at the kitchen table to do his homework (1 math worksheet & 1 grammar worksheet).  I assumed EmCee would help him, but again EmCee is too busy to be bothered as he sat there plastered to his computer, glancing over at LittleG’s papers.

“That S is sloppy.  It looks like an upside down 5.  You’ve had an S in your last name for 6 years now, and you’ve been writing it for 2 years.  Fix it.”

(Oh here we go again, I thought to myself as I prepped the potatoes and green beans).

“That S still doesn’t look right.  Fix it.  Is there something the matter with you?  Don’t you care about your homework?” (Insert condescending, demeaning voice rising to near yelling levels).

Now, EmCee goes off into a tirade.  Obviously, LittleG still didn’t fix what Daddy wanted.  (As if Daddy should talk with his chicken scratch handwriting. Give me a break, the kid is 6 and his handwriting is good for a 6 yr old!)

“If you don’t care, then I DON’T CARE!”

EmCee picks up Little G’s folder, homework notebook, grammar workbook and THROWS them across the room.  “Since you don’t care, I DON’T CARE!”

I unfortunately, can’t stand his bullshit anymore and immediately step up to him.  Someone needs to protect LittleG.  “Who’s the child here, him or you?  What kind of example are you showing him by throwing his books?  This is the second time in a month you’ve thrown something at him to prove your point and I’m not going to tolerate it.”

“Oh, see, now you’ve got your mother on your side.”  (As LittleG starts hysterical crying).

“Mommy will you please help me finish my homework?”  He asks quietly, not wanting to upset his father.  I tell him to sit down calmly and we will finish it.

Homework is finished, but I’m not finished with EmCee.  As soon as LittleG is out of the room, I immediately rip into him.

“You’re such a bad father sometimes.  What kind of example are you showing him? Don’t you remember when your mother threw pea soup at you – it scarred you for life.”

“Yea, but I needed it I was acting like an asshole.  LittleG was acting like an asshole just now, making a jerk out of me.  He needed to be taught a lesson.  I needed to make a point and sometimes you need to make a point!” (pause) “I hate you for calling me a bad father, I AM NOT A BAD FATHER!”

(Calling him this always hits a nerve, because his own dad abandoned him).

“Oh, what am I going to regret saying that? (Insert sarcasm here,  as I referred to one of our prior arguments when he told me I was going to regret it) Why because I’m a woman, I shouldn’t open my mouth?  Am I supposed to stand here and let you abuse my son?”

“It’s not abuse, he was making a jerk off out of me. I was making a point.”

(Yea, that you’re an asshole).

“You shouldn’t throw things.  You’re teaching him that it is OK to throw things when he is angry or when things aren’t going his way.  And you wonder why we are having behavioral problems with him in school.”

“Oh, you should talk.  Mother of the year.   How many times do you raise your voice and yell at him?”

“But I never throw things.  And I never hit him.  I’m not sarcastic or condescending to him.  We all yell at our kids sometimes EmCee, it happens.  But that doesn’t make me a bad parent.”

Of course, as soon as you point out his mistakes or flaws, he can “never take the hit” as he calls it.  He will never accept blame.  He always turns it around on everyone else and makes sure to point out their flaws.  His behavior is always justified.  His behavior is always perfect.  He’s allowed to because he’s “the man” of the house.  We should respect him.

I knew the conversation was only going to get worse.  So I decided not to add any more fuel to the fire.  I let it be and ended the argument like this:

“Well if  if my behavior is that flawed, I would welcome someone pointing out to me my mistakes so that I can correct them.  No one is perfect, not even me.  So next time you feel that I am being the bad parent, why don’t you tell me.”

And I’m sure he will. He will savor every moment letting me know how screwed up a parent I am.  Now, I just have to make sure I don’t give him the opportunity to do so.

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When Will It End?

I can’t take it anymore.  It happened again tonight.  When will it end?  I’m tired of being alone, I’m tired of being scared, I’m tired of living in this house with my monster.

LittleG was a bit antsy today.  Perhaps it was because it was Thanksgiving weekend and the thought of 4 days off in a row excited him a bit too much.  He drove me up a wall at work (thank god I own my own business) so much that I had to leave 2 hours early.  I came home and tried to finish my work at home, but it was a constant state of nagging.  “When are you going to play with me?  Why can’t I have a brother or sister?  If I had a brother or sister, I wouldn’t need you to play with me, Mommy.”

I know baby, I know.  But I can’t tell you that your father never wanted you, that you were an accident and that your father hates children.  I can’t tell you that all I have ever wanted in this world was a big, happy family, with a happy and loving father and husband.  Instead, I made the poor decision of choosing EmCee, a man who is selfish and only wants his free time to himself – children are an “inconvenience” because he can’t do what he wants to do.

So after I wrapped up work for the evening, I wanted to play with you, LittleG.  And I did, for a short time, I was trying to race cars with you while getting the kitchen cleaned up for Thanksgiving and in between laundry.

Then somehow, your father lost it (again).  He screamed for you to sit down on the couch and stay still.  He screamed at you when you didn’t listen.  He picked you up by the collar again, and that’s when I turned around to watch you push him.

Good for you LittleG! You stood up for yourself against him.  I am so proud of you that you did that!  One day, you will be bigger than your father and I hope you put him in his place.

But for now, your father didn’t like that.  And he took you by your collar once again, nearly chocking you – and threw you into the couch.

“Get your hands off of him!” I screamed, pulling at EmCee’s arms.

“Did you see that? He pushed me.  He taunted me that he wasn’t sitting on the couch.”

I stormed upstairs and took LittleG with me.  I wasn’t going to be in the same room as him.  I would put away the laundry.  Instead, though, it turned into a crying match between LittleG and I – let’s see who can cry more.

When I married EmCee in 2003 – I made the mistake of never asking his thoughts on major subjects – religion and children.  My mistake, I should have.  But because EmCee was so good around kids (he would always play with the neighbors kids, take them for ice cream, stuff like that) that I assumed EmCee liked kids.

Well, after we got married, I was informed that he wanted NO children.  Not even 1.  Not 2, and certainly not 3.  Kids were nothing but an inconvenience to him, they would take away from his free time.  They would turn into the dictators of the house, not giving him the time to do what he wants to do. (Mind you, he does nothing, has no outside interests and only watches porn, plays on the computer or watches TV, all day, everyday.) I was devastated. Destroyed.  But I thought maybe one day, I could change his mind.

6 months into the marriage, I was terrible at taking birth control pills.  Not on purpose, I would just forget and double up.  Then I would forget again, and double up again.  It always happened and I always made sure to tell EmCee that I goofed up.  But 6 months after exchanging vows, I was pregnant, by accident.  It was a happy accident for me, not for him.

6 months after I gave birth, it was the first time I thought about divorce.  I accidently left information on my computer up, and EmCee found it and lost his mind.  I figured I would be able to make it work – I had to make it work – for the sake of our son.  But it never has – 6 years later and I wish I would have divorced him then.

I’ve got baby fever tonight combined with anger over the way EmCee treats LittleG and me.  Why does EmCee refuse to divorce me when we both want different things?  Why does EmCee refuse to let me be happy?  Why is EmCee’s happiness prevail over my own?  Why is it, that if having children is what I want, and EmCee doesn’t – can’t we agree to go separate ways?   Oh I get it, and I know why … I make more money than EmCee and I own 51% of our business partnership (of which, EmCee doesn’t do anything for because he works full time at his own job) – but he would never let me own a business by myself because I’m a woman and my vendors would “walk all over” me.  I need him according to EmCee … but in reality, he is only with me because of my money – the money that he spends and spends.

I told LittleG tonight that we could leave and be happy.  There would be no more yelling, no more hitting, no more hurting.  He could see EmCee anytime he wanted, everyday if he wanted to.  He could have 2 houses, 2 toy rooms, 2 of everything!  I could have brothers and sisters for him… things would be so much happier.

LittleG cried and said NO! I’m staying with Daddy.  You can leave. I want to live in the same house as you and Daddy.  But I’ll stay with Daddy.

It broke my heart.  All I ever wanted was a child.  All I ever wanted was children.  And my only child, my only son, is rejecting me for a man who is abusive, controlling and has anger management issues.  I just don’t know what to do anymore.  If I didn’t have LittleG I would run away and never come back.  But I fear for LittleG’s safety and his mental well being.

Hello, is anyone out there?  Is anyone listening?  I need help.  I feel so alone.  When will it end???

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