Confessions of a Bitchy Wife

See ya in divorce court -- I wanna divorce! If I could count the number of times I said that, I'd OWN Aruba. It had to be at least once a week, sometimes twice. Every fight would end with the same decree -- this isn't going to work. At the time, I'm sure it was an empty threat. But by the time we finally signed those papers, it was a done deal. I guess you should never really threaten a divorce unless you mean it.

All in all, J-Fed wasn't all bad. To provide him with some sort of vindication, I'll say this. He always tried, although it was never hard enough. That was likely my own issue, or the fact that he really did have a long way to go. He was always complimentary. Even when I looked my worst, he told me I looked my best. He never missed an opportunity to tell me he loved me, even if he had a hard time showing it. He always showered me with lavish gifts, even though the greatest present would have been a bit more help. He was always good for a laugh, even if it was at the expense of our bank account. He was always up for a good time, although it usually ended at the local bar while I was at home nursing our newborn every two hours.

In retrospect, J-Fed could have been worse. But he could have been better.