Wanna Talk about Me

I was married for about seven years longer than I should have been. I hung in there out of duty, loyalty, respect for the institution of marriage.  I listened as my husband talked about his day, his wants, his wishes and dreams. Occasionally, I would try to speak. He would interrupt me with another story about him and his day; his work.

I worked too. I took on the majority of financial and family obligations. It became fairly clear that’s what he expected. So, there I was supporting myself and my family and doing it all out of love.  

But, he still behaved as the primary breadwinner.  He still behaved like I was his “little woman”.  It was ok at first. Shit, the first argument we’d ever had as a couple was over where Egypt was. I told him it was in Africa. He said, “bullshit! It’s in the Middle East somewhere!”  I tried to explain that Northern Africa was the Middle East. Oh well, he was an ok guy.

But, sometimes I’d need to vent about work. Sure, I was making good money but the amount of bullshit I had to put up with was ridiculous. Oh! I worked for an equipment dealership with mostly men. He’d thought it ok if I got an indecent proposal from a millionaire farmer if he could just get some land to hunt on. Granted, that was probably a joke.

But the thing that really irked me? The thing that pissed me off beyond belief? Was when I’d be attempting to talk about my day and he’d break into Toby Keith’s “Wanna Talk about Me”. I’d get three words out about my day and that moron would start singing, “wanna talk about me. Wanna talk about I. Wanna talk about number one oh my me my.”


I’ve been divorced 5 years. Any questions? 

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