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Flower Child
I met the Flower Child (my ex-wife) in high school. I think there might’ve been an award ceremony, and we were all waiting in line for refreshments. I overheard her and her mother speaking, and noticed that the mom especially had an accent. So I had to ask, “Are you from the island?” We’re all very proud people, and they responded warmly. We chatted for a while, and then found our respective families. The Flower Child was almost an exact replica of her mother, except for the fact that she hadn’t quite grown into herself yet. She was more like a baby wallflower, waiting for the right set of conditions to bloom.
I don’t think I had this exact thought at that time, but I’m always checking out how a girl’s mother looks. And in general how her family looks. After all, we are shopping for genes when we select a mate. There is an objective standard of beauty, and that’s what I’m shopping for. I don’t have control over the final combination/configuration of those genes… yet, but I can stop myself from sowing my seed with those I don’t find attractive. When I do find a woman attractive, just thinking about giving her a baby gets me going. I guess it’s hardcoded in me. And then I think about the cost of raising that baby, and I slip a condom on. Needless to say, the Flower Child fit the bill. We were both around similar physical attractiveness and came from good families from what I could tell. I was into it. There are other traits you might want to consider, whether consciously or sub-consciously.
I knew I had to see her again, so I wrote her a note and gave it to her the next time I bumped into her in the hallway. We started exchanging notes. Through that exchange, I found out that she came from a religious family, and that dating for her was off the table unless it was with the intent of marriage. Well, that was an easy way to deter me. I opted for “just friends” without hesitation. We kept in touch, and she would invite to hang with her and her friends every once in a while. We’d email each other, and I’d tell her about my trips. By college, we lost touch.
When the Tōhoku earthquake happened she reached out to me to see how I was doing. I was fine. I was on the West Side. When I got back I called her up, and to my surprise she was engaged. She invited me to a celebration they were having, and I ended up meeting the guy. It is what it is. They were of the same religion, so it was a match made in heaven. By this time, she had finally bloomed and she was looking like a woman. But I had bigger fish to fry, I was mainly thinking about get a well paying job, which I was successful at doing. A couple months later, I called her out of the blue, only to find out that the engagement had been called off.
After that we started spending all of our time outside of work together. Mistake. But it was simple at the time. We were out in the suburbs, and she was my best choice. I wasn’t going to do well chasing tail in the suburbs. And after Japan, I figured why bother. I’d probably be creating more headache for myself. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was her rebound. We had fun together, and we took trips. At some point, I recognized that things were getting “serious”, and I told her, “Look, I like you, but I don’t want anything to do with your religion.” I also told her I don’t stay in one place for long, and she’d have to be ok with that. I told her who I was. She said she was down for the adventure. I honestly should have ran the other way from then.
After that year, my parents decided to leave the country for good. So it was me in a big ass house by myself. Things between the Flower Child and I continued to escalate. It wasn’t even she that was escalating things, it was me. I thought that now that my parents were gone it was time to start my own family. I never consulted anybody, but at the time it felt like there was no one to consult. My friends and I had to stopped sharing the intimate details of our relationships as we once did years ago. And my dad for whatever reason thought he couldn’t talk to me about girls. When I called him and told him I was going to get married, he only said, “Well son, if that’s what you want to do…” I couldn’t read through his silence and hesitation to stop his stubborn son. So we followed through and did everything quickly. There was no rush, but it was like, why not? Not understanding there were a million reasons why I shouldn’t, and why I shouldn’t have done it so young, if at all.
Now it was like the Flower Child’s family was sizing me up differently, especially the mom. I think for them, they just wanted their daughter to have some fun to forget about the previous fiancee. So before I asked for her hand, I was probably seen as the fun, nice guy giving their daughter a good time. After asking to marry the Flower Child, the mother was sizing me all the time. She would say things like, “Mhm, he’s just like my husband.” We kinda looked alike in a way, but I didn’t realize she wasn’t referring to looks. She was referring to him being a weak man. I don’t like this term, but he was your beta bucks guy. In reality, she was the head of the house, and she did what she wanted to do. It’s one of those dynamics where the woman makes it looks like the man is in charge, but we all know who’s in charge.
Days before the small ceremony, my soon-to-be mother-in-law pulled me aside for a private chat. She proceeded to say, “One day a man will come along that my daughter won’t be able to resist…” and that I would have to accept that this guy that is bigger and stronger than me is going to bang my wife, and she will like it. In hindsight, I think this had happened in her life, and she was implying that she thought I was weak like her husband. And that she would see to it that her daughter followed suit. In hindsight, I don’t think I understood how often this happened in marriages/relationships before considering marriage.
We did the deed. We got married. I got a new job, and I moved first to get everything setup. When the Flower Child finally came a couple months later, life was great. I had food ready after work, and consistent sex with a pretty lady. What more could a man want? I was good. I think the Flower Child was good, but this was also her first experience away from home. So I don’t know. After grinding out a job I shouldn’t have taken, I got another. I was still trying to figure out what I was doing with my life. The Flower Child was only working part-time, but she was supposed to be looking for something full time. We moved into a little more expensive apartment, and I was banking on her actually picking up more work. The reality was we weren’t going to get a much cheaper apartment, unless we were open to sharing with bed bugs or other people. I’ll pass on both. I’d foot the majority of everything for a little while longer.
One of the problems we ran into was that once we moved into the new apartment, it seemed like her family was always there. You live states away, why are you here, in my space? I don’t understand. Then, sometimes she’d go away to visit them. I get that the Flower Child might’ve been a bit home sick, since this was her first time away from home, but it felt excessive. Or she was always on the phone with her mom. What are you talking about all the time? The issue here is, any little problem we had, she was probably running to her mom for advice and oversharing about our relationship. It was like the mom was a third party in the relationship.
The next thing was she started trying to tease and put me down. I was told by my mother-in-law that I’d have to accept my wife belittling me as a joke. I shut that shit down quickly. I don’t like it. This is blatant disrespect in my eyes. Not to mention, if I were to do it, it would immediately be a problem.
The other thing is while I said I respect her religion, but I don’t want to be a part of it, deep down she wanted me to. I would join her when she first moved up, and I would see how happy she was. But I also noticed how tight my chest got. It was like I was suffocating. I was slowly losing my freedom. I was slowly losing myself. I never explicitly told her, I just stopped going to the services with her. Sometimes when I speak, people don’t listen, so I let my actions or lack of, show them what I’m trying to say.
The final straw was the financial burden. Her money never became our money. So while I was paying for our overhead expenses, she was able to pay for visits to her family, and “fun” things. No. You must contribute.
After asking, negotiating, and then finally just dropping little hints about not spending money, I shut up. I sat back and watched to see what she was going to do. Then I started calculating. I don’t use second order thinking as often as I should, but when I do… So I thought to myself. Hmmm. If I stay in this situation and nothing changes, then what? I might as well dig my grave. That’s it. I saw myself being unhappy if I was going to bust my ass so she could be in charge of me and everything I own. If I stay in this situation and she does change, how long before the next problem? How long before I end up still wanting to dig my grave? What if we have kids and the problems multiply? Or I can leave. What happens if I leave? If I leave, I still have to deal with her family giving me a hard time for leaving their daughter. If I leave, I’ll have to start all over from scratch. I’ll have to deal with the family, but it won’t be as stressful as staying and dealing with the family. I won’t necessarily have to prepare my will and dig my grave. If I start over from scratch, I can get another girl. I can get another job. I can get another life. Still, too simplistic, but I chose to leave.
I didn’t act on my new revelation immediately. I did distance myself from the Flower Child though. I had a business trip, so I was out of the country for a month. When I came back, I was calm and I probably tried to “make it work” again. But in my heart, the decision had been made. I don’t remember how everything went down, or why we had the conversation. I think I sat her down to explain my reasoning. I was hoping we could end things on good terms. But one thing lead to another, and I pulled out my spreadsheet and started shouting. The last thing I remember shouting was something along the lines of, “If you’re not going contribute more to our overhead, get the fuck out!” She left moments later.
When she came back, she had changed. I had seen how nasty her mother could be, but I didn’t think the Flower Child had it in her. Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. We had a “family” call, and the mother made sure to give me a piece of her mind. I had the separation papers ready. I let her sign, and she was out by the morning.
All I’m going to say is, don’t do it. It’s easy to get into, and hard to get out of. No matter who ends the relationship, everything will fall on you. I’m pointing my finger at the Flower Child a lot here, but I had my faults too. I didn’t know how to lead. I didn’t know how to stand on my square. I’m an ineffective communicator. There are so many things I did wrong here. There are so many things I didn’t know. I had no business getting married in my early 20s. I had no business leading a girl down that path. The blind leading the blind. Except she had coaching on what to do the whole way, as long I played my part in her movie.
I won’t bore anyone with the rest of the details, but luckily I was able to start over, many times over. Albeit, again, ineffectively. The Flower Child, not so much. Months after we separated, I got a call from her and she was in the hospital. I had decided that no contact was the way to go, or she’d try and lure me back. Cancer was taking over the Flower Child’s body. So when I say we sensed that something was wrong, this was it. She was always talking about going home, and had she not gone home when we separated, they wouldn’t have found the cancer. It’s unfortunate that things happened the way they did. I never wished her any harm. I just wasn’t ready for something that was bigger than me. And this, for sure, was bigger than me. I don’t know how I would’ve handled that situation if I had to take care of her. Would you have been able that?
I spent the next year trying to get myself out of a deficit. At least the deficit that I could identify. That killed any desire to connect with anybody. I thought I would fuck it up again. Or I thought the person would get sick on me. Or I thought they were going to leave or I was going to leave anyway, so what’s the point?
After hiding for more than a year, I realized I had to put myself back out there. Life is not over. I’d bump my head many more times. This is what this blog is about. I ended up finding dancing . For a while, it helped me regain some confidence and zest for life in spite of still bumping my head out here in these streets. It was the first time I thought family might be possible again, even though it’s not the solution.
After this experience, there’s no way I’m trying again. Do I focus on my career and chase strange in my free time to make up for lost time? I’d give myself another 10 years to build myself up and fuck around. I still have a lot more to build before I’m anything close to being effective with women… before I’m anything close to being an effective human being. (For every piece of progress I make, I feel I’m also regressing. I don’t know if that’s normal, or I’m hopeless. I can’t seem to fit it all together and gain momentum.)Then if I’m lucky or decide to, I cash out. Is it worth it to even try and cash out and create a family based on the state of affairs, and my track record? It’s only going to get worse out here, even if I become better. Even if women are realizing feminism is hurting them in the end, are they sharing their shortcomings with the younger generations? Or do I say fuck the game and become a full time monk? Will my genetic lineage stop here? Will I find a greater purpose in life? I don’t know what my endgame is right now. The questions only time will answer…
A couple years later I received an angry call from Flower Child’s brother. He threatened to kill me if he ever saw my face again. The only thing I had to say was, “Look we were young and dumb. We didn’t know what we were doing.” One day he might find himself repeating my same mistakes. Maybe not. Flower Child had to save face when our marriage ended. No one knew or would believe the naughty things she did when she wasn’t praying. It also wasn’t the time or place to say. MaddMonk doesn’t kiss and tell (except when he writes about his lovers on his blog). I will let them continue to believe she was angel. She told everyone how horrible I treated her the whole time, and what a horrible person I was. The reality is we had way more good times than bad times. But I will forever be the enemy for not succumbing to her reign. Apart from threatening my life, he wanted to tell me that the Flower Child had died. In a way it felt like her brother wanted to blame her death on me. I do think the bad experience I gave her might have taken a toll on her life. We were so fucking young. She was so full of life. It should’ve been me.
This was hard to write, but it had to be done.
RIP Flower Child