This summer I met a 55 year old Australian in the
Alas, the wrinkle. He's married. His wife is a Filipina with a sexy full set of lips and curvy hips, who exudes sexuality.
No problem, huh? Well, it's just that whenever I see "Frank" at night he's bombed out of his skull. When I talk to him during the day, in his more sober moments, he constantly refers to his wife's spending habits. He tells me several times over the course of the weeks that I know him that he may have to go back to work.
Imagine being retired, with no problems at a young age, 26 years before the typical sap will be free from his life of drudgery. Now picture your sorry ass going back to work because your wife's spending is out of control.
I am reminded of the Hulk Hogan reality show, when he goes back into the ring. He's older now, and even if wrestling is fake, you still take punishment, like the knee that been killing him since his return to the ring. Hogan tells his wife he thought he'd be retired by now. God knows he's got money. The only catch is his wife's spending habits.
So Hulk Hogan stands in the living room, leaning to one side to favor a wrenched knee. He is in essence telling his wife, "I'm taking punishment and I'm in pain. I'm facing crippling injuries at an age when I should be resting and enjoying everything I worked so hard for, everything I sweated for. And all of this is to finance your out-of-control shopping trips."
She sits there, like a sallow pumpkin draped in a corpse's pale skin, strategically highlighted with an over-application of makeup that is completely wasted on her. "I'm worth it. You need me." Her response resembles a taunting laugh.
No, he doesn't need you, you shallow, avaricious bitch. If Hogan hadn't made his deal with the devil, and signed over his soul, you'd be out on your ass. As you made your way to the Rescue Mission for a free bowl of soup and a bus a bus ticket out of town, Hogan would be laughing –not at you, but at himself, wondering how he got so drunk and desperate that he picked up the nastiest skank in the bar.
But he's trapped, and so is Frank. And so are millions of other men. You cannot control another human being, even if that person is your wife. She can blow through thousands of dollars in credit card debt and saddle you with the debt. You're the one who’s working, so it's up to you to somehow find a way to make ends meet. So if that means you need to get a second job, or come out of retirement, or drag your body into the ring for yet more punishment, at an age when the body doesn't heal and the pain doesn’t go away like it used--well, that's your problem.
1 comments:
So true. I ended up with a crushing debt from my first marriage, that took me years to get out from under. I'm thankful my second wife isn't such an extravagant spendthrift.
In retrospect, I was "Dumb as an Ox" not to have seen that coming. My first wife's credit was so bad that she had to take an eight-week course AND have a cosigner AND agree to an irrevocable direct deposit of her entire paycheck AND agree to have part of her assets frozen, just to open a savings account!
I freely admit that I was a dumbass and ignored these giant warning signs. As cold-blooded as it may sound, I know from experience that one of the first things involved in choosing a life partner is to closely scrutinize their spending habits; ability to save; and credit rating. You've got to think with the big head when making these kinds of life decisions.
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