Parents Just Don’t Understand – On the Ropes Without an Adrian

I guess the long and short of it is that all any parent really wants is to have their children be happy, unless of course you’re my parents of late, in which case you second guess child at every turn and assume that Mr. Halfwit is at the helm of a head without direction. Frequent flyers to this meandering mess will know that the “wife” and I have decided to head our separate ways but what you don’t know is that I not only have to hold it together with the “wife” but I’ve found myself trying to pacify my own fucking parents at a time when I should be the one soother sucking.

My Mom has hated every single girl (save two) that I ever brought to the cannibal cave to meat her (or was forced to introduce to through some awkward event). In my teens, Dad called every single one of them “Jenn” because every second or third one of them through the testosterone turnstile was named as such – or so it seemed (one even adopted the name to deflect embarrassment for an entire weekend). Show up at the house with one too many hickeys or badge of honor back scratches in a fortnight and the folks would probably have a fairly skewed opinion of the lass long before they’d even met the poor princess - much less give her a chance to prove them otherwise.

In stark contrast to this pretty picture was the “wife” who not only won my parents over but now that we’re on the ropes (or in the dressing room by now) they seem to still be in her corner. We’ve most certainly taken an emotional beating but for whatever reason the favor of the crowd seems to be with her and that no matter how many bruises I’m nursing, I’m left to fight this on my own (friends aside of course) with gloves of gravy skin. Where’s Burgess Meredith when you need him? Yo, Adrian! I’m black & blue with a breakup and parental back lashings without even buying a bloody ring - imagine if we had gone the full four rounds (Marriage, Kids, Dog, and Death).

I can appreciate why mother would have concerns over our conclusion but that’s no reason to pour derision over said decision when it’s our lives we’re trying to salvage and not hers. Sure, one less seat at the Thanksgiving table will stand out like a grain of salt in a pepper shaker but isn’t our happiness more important than seasoning? As for my Dad, he’s still on my side but I get the feeling he’d be more comfortable in the middle (say Hi to Malcolm for me). They believe that this is all my fault, and to some extent it is, but if what I’m guilty of is questioning my happiness shouldn’t that be enough to win their favor?

I do believe that is the first time I’ve used the big "F" word in a blog. Those that know me will find this most amusing, for the rest of you keeping score that's 22, 308 - 1.

Will Smith was right. Who knew?

iPod played "Survivor - Eye of the Tiger" while posting