A Bad Fight

Marie and I had an awful fight. I don't want to write out all the details, except to say all the fear and uncertainty and sadness spilled out, all the resentments and sorrows, and it was just a terrible, hurtful uncovering of all our frustration and helplessness. I apologized after but the damage was done, and we're farther apart than ever. Between us there is all this attraction and desire, and we genuinely love each other, but then there are the hard realities and the harsh insecurities and the sad memories of the worst things we've said and my decision to leave. She is so hurt at the core by that abandonment, and it colors everything else, and makes every difference or misunderstanding a crisis.

I wish I had $2000. It's not that it's all the money in the world, and it's my fault I don't, but if I had $2000 the financial barrier to reuniting our household would be removed, and we could decide on our merits, is this what we want? Right now we are hopelessly trapped by circumstances of our making, in helplessness and uncertainty born of carelessness and bad decision making and our inability to take responsibility for things. This is my fault. I'm the husband. I promised to take care of her, and I can't. In pure simple economic terms, I don't deserve her. I have too much debt and not enough disposable income. In my defense, a lot of the debt came in our meals and entertainments and adventures. We had a hell of a good time with that money. But our situation today is a direct result of our own decisions and our behavior, and no one should feel sorry for us, least of all ourselves.

I left her initially because the fighting was too hard and too awful. I keep coming back because I love her and want to be with her, and wish somehow we could get along without all the sorrow. I'm embarrassed with all the melodrama and indecision. What a tawdry, maudlin little soap opera we have created. Thus far there has been no transformation, and no triumph of faith, hope and possibility. But that is what I live for.

When we are angry with each other we talk about incidents and suspicions, little hard pebbles of doubt or unbelonging, the worst memories and moments, the bitter fears. How can we forget all the good that lies between us, all the devotion, all the tenderness? Why does love go wrong? I guess musicians have been asking and answering that question forever. Maybe I should drop everything and learn to play guitar.

After she left I phoned her to apologize again. I told her I loved her and I wanted the best for her, that I was sorry we had a fight and sorry I hadn't done better by her. I'd given her a little bit of money. Not much, enough maybe for groceries and gas. I try to share whatever I have and stay connected.

Just now I played in a poker game and I busted out in two hands. The first one I had wired queens, the third best starting hand in hold 'em, and a guy beat with a3o. Flopped an ace on the dreaded ace draw. I probed once and checked it down, my best possible play. He'd called 12x the blinds preflop to draw to his ace, and he wasn't going to let it go now. The very next hand, the second hand of the tournament, I have wired kings, the second best hand in poker, in the small blind. The table has to think I'm on tilt, so I put in another raise 12x the blind and a player in early position raises me all in. It's possible he might have aces, but unlikely. Another player calls. I call. The raiser has two deuces, the lowest possible pair, and the caller in the middle has ace-jack offsuit. Two incredibly mediocre hands to be all in on the second hand of a tournament. An ace flops, and I'm busted, out in two hands with wired queens and wired kings. There's all kinds of possible symbolism in this but I don't have the emotional strength right now to wrestle with it--I'll just say it wasn't a good time to be bold. A conservative way to play those hands is to make a minimal raise and see the flop, but online players are so rash that you usually want to be aggressive with great starting hands because they will call with much less. All you can do is draw strong and hope to win your share, and I do, but it's the losses that stick out. It's the losses that stay with you, in poker and in life.

I miss Marie. I want to be with her, and I want to be a good husband, and I want us to get along and be happy and provide for each other. Right now things are a mess, and it's a mess of our own making, and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know what step one is, and she has so much hurt and frustration and genuine worry about her situation that I can't say she's in the same place I am or of the same mind I am. I wish our conversation tonight had gone better. I started it off wrong and it got terribly, terribly worse from there. I adore her. But I'm not patient enough with her, and she's not gentle enough with me. We bring out the best in each other and the worst.

For now, I'm just going to hole up and bear down. I'm going to try to win $500 this weekend. I'm going to play as sharp and focused as I can, and I'm going to finish deep in an event and cash out some money. I've done it before. I've done it recently. If that doesn't work, I guess I'll go down to FedEx or Fred Meyer's and ask for a job until someone gives me another one. I don't know if Marie and I can make it. I want us to. I want to get past the hurt to a place of hope and devotion and acceptance. Right now I've made a mess of things, and she is across town and may as well be across the world. There's more than a river that separates us.

I love her and I'm sorry, but it's entirely possible that's not enough.


postscript---I called Marie twice tonight, and she didn't answer or return my calls.