DEAR MARGO: My husband of four years, "Ralph," served in the
Air Force before we met. He received an injury to his leg and was
deemed permanently unfit for combat. The first morning we spent in our
new house, he put several pictures of another airman on our mantle and
he never took them off. He won't tell me who the guy is, and he never
tells me anything about his years in the Air Force. I can understand
the PTSD and the fear of loud noises, but I can't handle the secrecy. I
once tried to put up Christmas decorations on the mantle, and he became
so angry he knocked me to the ground. I love this man and want to stay
with him, but I keep feeling that the mystery man is more important to
him than I am. What do I do?
--- WONDERING WHO THE HECK IS THIS GUY?
DEAR WON: I have only two guesses: the mystery man was a dear
friend who was killed in combat, or they were gay lovers. If your sex
life is satisfactory, then I suspect you can eliminate one of these
possibilities. Also, a married man who wishes to be married does not
display pictures of a male lover. My first thought was: Don't let it be
so important to find out. But then I put myself in your shoes and
realized that several pictures of a man I knew nothing about on my
mantle would make me a little crazy, too. I would suggest you make an
appointment with a psychiatrist who deals with the military (perhaps
ask a nearby VA hospital for a referral) and work this out with someone
familiar with these kinds of situations. There is the possibility that
your husband feels responsible for, and therefore guilty about, this
man's death. (I have a strong hunch the man is not alive.) Again, a
military shrink can give you proper guidance -- and he may suggest your
husband talk to someone, as well.
Argentum, a
real guy, responds: Let it the fuck go.
Just let it go. He's going to kill you if you push
it.
Also, its always stunning to me the number of women that just don't
know how to actually LIVE with someone else. Let me clarify
something for you: YOU DON'T GET TO HAVE EVERYTHING YOUR WAY.
Have you TRIED living with someone that had to have everything
particularly THEIR way or no way at all? You end up
fantasizing about killing them within a week.
Living with someone, on a real, practical level, is all about
compromise. Its an art.
And you just gotta' let some shit slide.
I suggest letting this slide b4 he kills you. So you have
some strange dude on your mantel? So what?
Princess, its not all about you. Do you have any
notion of what most people put up with on a daily basis? A
stranger on the mantel doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things.
Odds are, eventually he'll open up about this, and it will
bring you that much closer. Or, he doesn't, he'll love you that much
more for LEAVING IT THE FUCK ALONE.
Leave it alone. Do you sense a theme in what I'm telling you?
No? Its this: leave it the fuck alone.
My guess is that if you leave it the fuck alone, you guys could live
together quite amiably for 80 fucking years.
Leave it the fuck alone. Or, if you can't do that, LEAVE.
I mean, he's not right for being rough with you, but you
strike me as one of those chicks that never learned to live with
somebody, and instead is cruising on some trumped up idealized notion
of what living with a guy is supposed to be like, some sort of fantasy
culled from chick-lit, cosmo, and fairy tale story-books which dictate
that everything has to be a particular way, YOUR WAY OF SEEING THINGS,
and everything is shared, which in your lingo obviously means
YOURS.
Some shit just isn't shared. And you should be sensitive
enough to realize that this is an area of pain.
Instead of aggravating the lunatic you're with, fucking leave it alone.
Or, like I said, LEAVE.
And then, presumeably you will trot through several relationships where
guys get sick of you being up their ass and kick you to the
curb until you either a) figure out we don't necessarily like girls all
up in our shit or b) you find a sac-less wonder that likes you all up
in his shit.
Argentum's 1st Key to a
Successful Relationship for Women: Sometimes you gotta' let
shit go, and leave us the fuck alone about things.
