The Botched Marriage Ch. 01

THE BOTCHED MARRIAGE, CHAPTER 1. LOVE STORY.

Three weeks ago, I destroyed my fairytale marriage to the perfect man. It took me about 10 days to do it, from bliss to abyss. For over a week now, I've been living with the certainty that I murdered the love of my life, the most honorable man I know, and the most devoted husband and father. I didn't just break his heart. I destroyed the person he was and poisoned all the life story we shared. A bad wife can obliterate the future, but it takes a truly evil whore to also destroy the past.

I sit alone in my childhood bed, my family likely too ashamed to even face me right now. You know you have really blown up your life when you realize that 3 weeks ago, my biggest worry in the world was that my husband had tasked me with getting a good deal on bundling all our insurances. This morning, I posted bail for assault, public intoxication, disorderly conduct, obstruction of justice and resisting arrest.

The villain of this cautionary tale is me, Carrie Miller. There are so many victims, I can't name them all, but they include my children, my family, and my community. I'm like a dragon from an ancient tale, burning everything to the ground, as far as the eye can see. I reign today, alone, over a vast wasteland you could call The Desolation of Carrie.

The main victim? That is my (still, soon to be ex?) husband, Dan Miller, universally known as Danny by those who love him. And everyone loves Danny.

My Danny.

My hero, my North Star, the father of my children, my best friend, my one true love.

I've known Danny my whole life. We grew up near the dividing line between two middle-class enclaves, mine a little wealthier, his a little less so, but we shared a park. Both enclaves part of an area known to locals as the Old Neighborhood. Working class, half Irish, quarter Polish, quarter Italian, solid Catholic.

My mom has a picture of 3-year-old me on a swing, and 4-year-old Danny standing nearby, pushing me back and forth. We shared a year of kindergarten together and he was my "boyfriend" even if he didn't know it. Then we were best friends while he was ahead of me in elementary school, and then, finally, officially, "boyfriend and girlfriend" starting in third grade. All my greatest childhood adventures involved Danny, our bikes, and that big neighborhood park. I was a fearless little tomboy. But I was only truly fearless with Danny's quiet presence next to me.

We were officially boyfriend and girlfriend all the way until seventh grade, when I mostly accidentally kissed Ronnie White after the all-county basketball game. Danny broke up with me and I know I cried for a whole week. Mom says the question I asked, over and over, was why. Why did I ever kiss that asshole Ronnie White?

After that, Danny was gone, off to 9th grade in a different campus. Just a few days after our breakup, he got himself a new girlfriend, Jenna Peterson. God, I hated her. She's sort of a friend now, ironically. Well, she was a friend. I doubt she'd piss on me if I was on fire today, as the saying goes. Danny and I didn't talk at all for a while. I was a lonely 8th grader, and he was a track and wrestling star from day 1 of high school.

All I did the summer between 8th and 9th was sit by the pool and scheme how I was going to steal Danny back from Jenna. No idea was off the table - everything from abduction to murder was considered. I had to get Danny back.

As it turns out, I never had to. While Danny worked his ass off all summer at some sort of factory to save up for a commercial grade zero turn mower, Jenna had an affair with one of the lifeguards. Rumor spread that Danny broke up the second he found out and didn't even give her a chance to apologize.

On my very first day in High School, I hit on Danny with all the subtlety of a missile attack. I had practiced flirting for three months straight. If practicing being cute or sexy in front of the mirror was a sport, I would have been an Olympian. He was toast!

Except he was weary of me. Kept me at arm's length for a bit. But because we had been friends for so long before, he was a soft target. He was too polite to firmly push me away. It was not as easy as when he had Jenna as a shield, though. I shamelessly took full advantage. He made me work hard but that only ever makes it sweeter, and God knows I worked him like the last piece of chewing gum on earth. Just a couple of weeks later, we were tentatively holding hands during lunch again, and by homecoming, he told me he loved me as we danced in each other's arms in the darkened gym.

Back at Danny's side, I honestly had the greatest three years in high school history. I had the boyfriend all girls envied, I was captain of the JV and then Senior cheerleading squads, honor society, and junior year Danny taught me how to drive. With Danny as my anchor, I just kept getting hotter, more confident, cooler.

Of course, those three years might have been even better for Danny, at least on paper. All state wrestling, all county track and field, honor society president, class salutatorian, Westinghouse finalist. That zero turn he bought right before 10th grade? He put almost 7,000 hours on it by the end of Senior year. He had three other kids working for him mowing lawns while he did customer service, tree trimming, and maintenance. I scheduled for him, kept his water cooler stocked with ice, held the flashlight, and tiptoed on his back when he got sore. In return, he spoiled me rotten. I was a thrift store fashionista, so it was never too expensive, but Danny always paid for me. For everything. But we were a unit, a partnership. He was the brains and I was the muscle. Danny was the eagle scout kid that every mom wanted for her daughter, and I was the sexy blonde girlfriend that they all disapproved of.

Truly, glory days.

And when Danny got the acceptance and scholarship letters to the big state college, well, that was a big deal. First in his family to go, and nobody doubted he would do it, and graduate. I could have burst with pride for him. So hard to do in our town, literally unheard of in the Old Neighborhood. He was the whole community's golden child.

One perfect winter night in my parents' backyard, wrapped in heavy blankets and pondering the cold, infinite starry night, Danny and I promised our whole lives to each other. As I trembled in his arms, overwhelmed by how right it felt, I whispered the very same words I declared when we first kissed, so many years before.

"I am yours, Danny Miller. Yours and yours alone. Always and forever."

Next few years were tougher. Long distance relationships are never smooth. Danny worked his ass off during college to get out in three years with a finance and accounting degree and no debt. I got into college too but not in the same town, and with a lot less scholarship money.

We took a small break when he decided that I needed to sow my wild oats in college a bit. He said I needed a chance to be free, to be wild, to find out if I was ready to be committed forever. I tried, but it was just plain miserable and I begged him to end the charade just a few months later. If this was freedom, I was not too proud to beg for him to just keep me caged, where I was happiest. With Danny by my side, my cage was the whole world -- what did I need freedom for?

He proposed to me soon after and made me the world's happiest 19-year-old fiancée. A year later we were married at our hometown church, by our childhood priest, in front of our families, our friends, our community, and our God.

Our honeymoon was in the Poconos because we could not afford to travel to Bali like I wanted or to do a European river cruise like Danny wanted. It was for the best. My wedding gift to Danny was a meticulous wax, framed in white garters, and a little box with proof that I had stopped taking my birth control pills two weeks ago. See, I had tricked poor Danny, telling him that I wanted to earn my white wedding dress by not having sex for the two weeks before the big day. He enjoyed his wedding gift with tremendous enthusiasm, and to this day I have no idea what there is to see in the Poconos or why people go there. Exactly nine months later, baby Marie was born.

And that's most of our story. After Danny graduated, we came back home. We stayed in the basement apartment under Danny's parents' home for a year, until we saved up enough for a down payment. We got a small home with a big yard in a new, nicer subdivision, just a mile "uptown" but still really part of the Old Neighborhood. Why would we leave? We hear that outside, in the real world, people have to supervise their kids in the park and pay for babysitting. We wanted no part of that insanity. So, we stayed and made two additions to our home since. I can literally say Danny's strong hands laid the foundation of my home. Of my whole life, really.

I finished my degree online, in something, two years later. No big milestone for me, in all honesty, but it allowed me to stop changing majors every six months. It also qualified me for a part time, online admin job I keep to this day. It just didn't matter to me at that point. From the second Marie was born, I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. Danny started a Financial Advisory and Accounting shop downtown, and we have never wanted for much. Who wouldn't want Danny Miller handling their financial affairs? Nobody.

Today, I am a 30-year-old mom of three: Marie Jr, also known and MJ, Kyle Jr, better known as KJ, and little Julia. My cushy life means I get to look amazing at 5'7'' and a size 4. I'm still the hot girl in most friend groups, the eye-catching blonde curls, emerald eyes, tiny waist, heart shaped ass and D cup boobs doing all the heavy lifting. But I do work for it every day, not just at the gym, but by only letting us have one restaurant meal per week. The rest of the time, I cook from scratch. And well, the kids, they take after their father. Endless, infinite energy. Until a few weeks ago, I was truly the happiest, most exhausted little housewife in the world.

I wish I could now shift to tell you about all the ways things slowly changed at one point. How he stopped being romantic, how our sex life died, how I felt trapped in my own home, how I "started losing my sense of my own self", whatever the hell that even means. I wish I could explain what happened with just an ounce of blame going anywhere but on my own wretched heart. But I can't think of a single damned thing. What I can tell you about is what didn't go wrong.

For example, I know for a fact our marriage did not lose any spark. Not that I ever saw or felt. Even with three children and a business, Danny has never lost sight of what matters to him most: his three babies and me. I get thoroughly fucked at least 3 times a week, more if I put an iota of effort. I'm never more than a freshly shaved pussy away from more oral sex than I can handle. I'm never more than one evening walking around in booty shorts from a vigorous fuck on my hands and knees til I beg for mercy. And if that's somehow not enough that night, I'm never more than a rimjob away from a second or third round.

I wish I could say he's let himself go. But he's so much hotter than ever before - somehow both more shredded and more muscular with age. Stronger, so much more masculine. I was taller than him for a bit years ago, and that was fun too, but he eventually topped out at 6'2". I love nothing more than standing on my tippy toes for a long kiss when he leaves for work each morning. His expressive blue eyes are magical. His brown hair has not grayed yet, but I know from Mr. Kyle that in a few years it will start coming in and my knees go weak just thinking about it. In winter he lets his stubble grow into a beard and we have this running joke about my favorite seat in the living room, because we both know what mommy's favorite seat really is.

I wish I could say being a stay-at-home mom is boring, oppressive, lonely. Maybe some women feel that way. I never have. It's hard work, sure, but not as hard as what Danny does. I have a four hour a day job while the kids are in school and pre-school, I work out every day with my gym friends, most afternoons I have play dates or events. Everything in the Old Neighborhood is communal, loud, slightly drunken. I know everyone and everyone knows us. Danny and I have poker nights with our neighbors, bowling nights with the kids, and religiously attend half price cheeseburger Tuesday at the local billiards club. Danny is a shark and I can have margaritas and watch his ass all night.

I have girls night every other Friday. I'm the only one in my friend group that doesn't get a curfew, text check in times, a lecture about keeping her location on. I just get a sweet swat in the ass and a "don't drive if you get drunk, call me to come get you" on the way out. Invariably, he has more fun with the kids than I do at the bar with the girls. Each night alone with them seems to add a life long anecdote. The world's largest pillow fort, with an actual second floor. The firefly garden. The night they rescued a bunny family. The backyard zipline course. The night they invented ramen noodle jambalaya. The night he found an ancient film projector on craigslist, hung a King size sheet from our house and invited everyone over for a silent movie pizza party. Just infinite energy. Infinite love.

So, what happened to my perfect marriage? I lost my mind. I crossed a line I should never have even thought to cross. I lost touch with reality and became obsessed with a stupid fantasy. The ugly truth is it's nobody's fault but mine. Now that you know what I had, you will find what I was willing to throw it all away for disgusting. Despicable. You will think of me as a worthless, selfish whore. Please do. There can never be enough. You will never scratch the surface of the disgust I feel for myself.