As usual I'd like to thank mikoe the baby for editing this story and for making it what it became. She pulls my cold dead fingers away from the comma key (on those oocasions when I actuallt type usually I just scribble down the word in crayon with no punctuation at all.)
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Most of us develop our personalities over time and due to a plethora of different reasons, ranging from parenting styles to life experiences. Some believe that we never change during life or in other words that we're born a certain way and throughout our life simply become more developed. They believe that a person's nature doesn't change. To them some of us are just born as assholes and spend the majority of our lives becoming bigger assholes. They espouse that even an asshole can show restraint in certain situations such as at work. When these assholes are in the proximity of people who control their destiny, they fake it. They pretend to be civilized until they are in control and then their natural asshole tendencies again take over. Hm...interesting.
Another theory is based not on nature, but on nurturing or experience. This theory says that we're not born assholes but that people or experiences turn us into assholes throughout our time here. Basically life trains us to be assholes. There are many versions of both of these theories, but if I had to pick one I'd be hard pressed.
I believe that each of us is born with both sets of genes and those asshole traits can be switched on or off due to extremely stressful events in our lives. I also believe that those traits can be directed at some people and not at others. After hearing my story, maybe you'll feel the same.
My name is Ryan McCarthy. I'm five foot ten inches tall with brown hair and brown eyes. I'm pretty soft spoken and I generally try to get along with people. I don't think I've had a fist fight since I left elementary school. On the other hand, I've been involved with martial arts and boxing since I was 8 years old.
I came home from the third grade with a bloody nose and my dad, an old army guy, signed me up for Karate classes. Of course, I still didn't get any tougher and the bigger kids still managed to walk away with my lunch money sometimes, but I just wasn't afraid anymore. Being able to fight and probably to kick their asses didn't make me a bully. It just gave me a choice. I could either fight them and probably hurt them or just give them the fifty cents and eat later without all of the problems a fight would bring me. I guess I've just never been the alpha male type.
I married Rhonda Barbie a couple of years after I left college and we've been doing great. I love her and she loves me. We have a two year old daughter, a great home and a great life. Rhonda is a little chunky but it's her heart that I fell in love with. I think it was my disposition that attracted her to me.
Rhonda had been with a couple of guys that were kind of abusive. Though she isn't fat, Rhonda had the same attitude as people say about bigger girls. She just thought that she'd have to try harder and lower her standards to get a guy. So some of the guys that she got tended to run over her and didn't treat her the way she deserved.
When we got together it was great for both of us. She knew that I wasn't going to force her into doing anything she didn't want to do sexually or otherwise. I'm still very soft spoken and easy going so our arguments are few and far between. I guess I tend to look at the big picture and I try to think about the other person's point of view as well as my own. I tend to try to avoid confrontations especially in cases where they aren't necessary.
After some of the guys she went out with, Rhonda's parents loved me. So everyone was happy when we got married. Our two families blended into one larger one with Rhonda and me in the center. When our daughter, Haley, was born two years ago, it was like the world, or at least our chunk of it, tilted on its axis and Haley became the sun.
Rhonda gave up her job and stayed home to take care of Haley. To be honest, I was making enough money that both of us didn't really need to work and Rhonda was actually tired of working. It was she who suggested that she stay home. I'd just figured that with both of us working we'd be able to put more money into our savings and investments. I, of course, lost that argument and Rhonda became a stay at home mom and I became the sole breadwinner.
That was the way that most things went with us. I wasn't the kind of husband who rocked the boat. Rhonda's dad often told me that I was a wimp, but he loved me anyway. "I'm glad my baby girl married you instead of those assholes she used to date," he often says.
As a matter of fact, most of the people who know us don't think the word, "No," is a part of my vocabulary. They're all very sure that Haley will wrap me around her little finger and take control of the house by the time she's five or six.
I didn't mind it because my world revolved around Rhonda and Haley. There was nothing I wouldn't do for either one of them. I guess there were a few times when I should have been more assertive, but at the end of the day making them happy, made me happy.
So on days when I'd had a really rough day at work and I just wanted to come home and relax on my deck, drink a beer and have a quiet dinner, but I got home and Rhonda had a group of people over to socialize and just handed Haley to me as soon as I hit the doorway, I took it in stride.
I tried to see it from her point of view which was that she'd been taking care of Haley all day and we made her together, so I also had to spend some time caring for my daughter. Rhonda also worked in the house all day long making it a home for all of us, so she never got the opportunity to get out or be around adults the way she used to when she worked. So I was fine with it. But then as has been mentioned, I never really complained about much.
So maybe, in some ways, I was a wimp. I mean I can break boards with my bare hands or feet. I weigh a hundred and seventy pounds and bench press two fifty, but I'm still a wimp. I simply do not possess the caveman gene. I would probably have gone through life without ever becoming angry had it not been for one phone call.
I almost never use our house phone. I've used it so rarely that I don't know the number. Even when Rhonda calls me, my iPhone doesn't show the number it just shows "Home."
So that day when my phone was on the charger and I needed to call a mechanic because my Taurus was acting funny again, my world changed. As I picked up the receiver, I heard voices. Normally I'd have put the phone down immediately, but I heard Rhonda laughing and she seemed to be talking about me.
"No, I don't think he even noticed that we weren't there," she laughed. "Don't get me wrong, baby, I love Ryan and I always will, but I don't think he'd say anything if he caught us fucking. He'd probably just say, "Sorry," and back out of the room."
"Yeah," said a man whose voice I recognized, but I couldn't put a name with. "He's so nice that he'd probably offer to hold your legs apart so I could stick my dick in you."
"Oh, Jim, stop exaggerating," laughed Rhonda. "Besides, your wife isn't any better."
"That bitch had better just do what I tell her to do," said Jim. "If she knows what's good for her. But shit at least we aren't doing it in her house. Ryan, I just don't know about him. Hey, while we're on the subject, my boss is a member of the same Masonic lodge as your dad. Isn't Ryan a member too?"
"Yep, my dad dragged him into that a few years ago. They remind me of the God damned Flintstones, with their funny hats and all of those rituals. They're like the loyal order of water buffalos."
"Well, I want to be a water buffalo," said Jim. "If I join their lodge, I'd get more contact time after work with my boss. It would give me a better chance in a few months when it's promotion time."
"I'll start hinting around about it to Ryan," said Rhonda. "As long as you keep me happy."
"I'll keep you full of dick, if that makes you happy," said Jim. "But if you love Ryan so fucking much, why do you need me?"
"Because I'm bored," said Rhonda. "I'm stuck at home with a baby all day. Ryan loves me and I love him. But with you I get to play a different role. I get to be someone else. I don't know how long it will last. Maybe I'll get bored with you too. I'd drop you like a hot rock, if I even thought that Ryan would find out about us, but as long as he's clueless, we're on."
I sat there holding the phone for a few minutes after they'd hung up. I heard Rhonda walking through the house and quickly went back outside. I walked around the house and came back in through the front door as if I hadn't been there.
"Hey babe," she smiled as I walked in. She came over to me and reached up for a kiss. I studied her face. There were no traces of the lies or lack of respect she held for me on it. I stood there for perhaps too long before I turned away from her.
"What's wrong Honey?" she asked. "Did you have a bad day at work?"
"Work was fine," I said. "The Taurus is going to have to go into the shop again. Can I use your car?"
"Sure baby," she said. "But it's just a car. They break down. Get used to it. That's no reason for you not to kiss me when you come in. I've been thinking about you all day. I look forward to us spending time together."
"Sorry," I said and walked away, looking for her keys.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I'm going over to the dojo," I said. She just smiled. When I really needed to get something out of my system I often went over to a local Karate school that a friend of ours ran. Rhonda laughed about it, because she'd never seen me hit a person. She'd occasionally seen me do Kata or break boards, but my wife, like everyone else, was of the opinion that I wouldn't say shit if I had a mouthful of it. I don't think she thought that I was capable of actually hitting someone, even in anger. I was definitely more of a talker than a fighter. She was right.
That night I beat the fuck out of a helpless punching bag. I tried to punch and kick the anger out of myself, but I couldn't do it. My anger and my pain settled like a ball of fire in the pit of my stomach. Even when I was so tired that I couldn't raise my arms any more, I couldn't let go of it. This was different for me. I had changed. I knew that I wasn't going to go home and confront Rhonda, but I started thinking about her differently. From that moment, for the first time since I'd laid eyes on her, I didn't think of Rhonda as mine. In fact, I no longer wanted her. Despite the fact that I've heard you can't turn off love that quickly. I no longer loved her. I was sure of it.
I knew that things had to be different because I was really pissed. I wanted Rhonda to go through the same pain and suffering that I had. I knew that I had to be smart about it though. I needed to plan and think about what I wanted to do.
I began to plan out in my mind what I wanted to say to her. I needed to do this in a way that would affect her most. I'm a strong person, I thought. Both mentally and physically, I'm strong. Maybe I can't lift my arms right now, but I'm strong.
I composed myself and got my temper under control. Martial arts are great with things like that. They teach you to focus. Except for perhaps a harder set to my mouth, I got my face straightened out to the point where my new feelings wouldn't show.
I may have looked composed on the outside but I wasn't. I was screaming on the inside and I felt nothing but rage and pain. There were so many questions I needed answers to. On my way back to the house I let Siri help me. For those of you who don't know Siri is the personal assistant on the iPhones. I just told Siri to find me a Private Investigator and the screen of my phone showed three of them in the area I was in. I picked a guy who was on my way home.
I don't know what I expected. I guess I wanted to see Humphrey Bogart or Robert Mitchum. Shit, I'd have settled for Colombo or even Barnaby Jones. I expected a grizzled veteran with a lot of life under his rumpled suit. I wanted someone with enough life experience that he's been there and done that.
What I got was a twenty something pot-bellied guy with a three day beard reading a video game magazine. He looked at me through eyes that had seen too much Modern Warfare 3.
"What do you need?" he asked.
