17 December 2006

Love stinks: another 'perfect man' bites the dust...

It's bad enough my company's Holiday Party (which I spent a good time planning and implementing this past month) was a bit marred by some infighting (and subsequent lackluster attendance) last night. But even my heavy disappointment and cloaked anger couldn't touch the call I got from my girl friend K last night. Some things that happen to good friends make you realize that your problems are truly very, very inconsequential.

We women always complain we want men (read: men, not boys masquerading as men, an absolutely massive difference) who can look after us, work with us on common goals, respect us, protect us, and love us. I would be the first one to admit that all of these wishes in one person may be fantasy...or have been made impossible for some men to achieve, especially as there are no 'hard and fast' rules that apply to all women. I, like so many other American women, was taught such men existed and I could have it all, but have found those teachings faulty, and especially so if you're not the class beauty, nor a single digit size, or not willing to sleep with a guy on the first date. In what must be a version of God's little joke of irony, the men we women frequently consider 'perfect' are only looking for 'perfect' women (at least visually), too...and that takes a good portion of us out of contention. It's a sad day when you come face to face with the reality about this. All the beauty a woman can cultivate on the inside will never be seen by so many men on the outside...because they only judge by the appearance they can see. God knows, we women are just as guilty of committing the same crime towards the men we meet.

But sometimes you hear about a guy who has spent the effort to look beyond the outer shell, to actually have a conversation with a woman in a social setting that didn't constantly feature his eyes drifting to her various body parts. Many of them actually know a good measure of manners, opening doors and the lot. An exceptionally high number are well-read and speak in complete and thoughtful sentences...and expect the women they date to be the same. They come from all corners of the world, and from all professions. Some have money, yet some don't 'need' money to survive. All of them do have some unspeakable level of confidence in themselves, their dreams, and their personal standards...as traditional or as avant-garde as they may be for each man. According to the plot, the 'smart' ones meet a woman who meets their personal needs, and have just some of the aforementioned wants of the woman (contrary to popular beliefs, men don't have to come 'to the table' with all of those characteristics already met), and decide they voluntarily want to get married and have a family. In some circles, this is referred to 'the perfect man' and is highly prized and fought over. In other circles, this is referred to as an 'urban myth'.

My dear friend K thought she had found 'the perfect man', a charming, Old School kind of bloke from the North Island of New Zealand. While he was a gifted conversationalist and avid outdoor enthusiast, he was also very fond of being 'the one in charge' at all times. A mixed bag of tradition and modern ways, and with a volatile temper at times to boot. Wickedly sarcastic and mentally sharp with a verbal attack, too (something that seems to be indicative of all Kiwis, from my experience anyway). At times, I thought K had given up some of herself to be with this guy, but I've never been married and am an only child, so I'm a tad bit unappreciative of compromise. But she seemed blissfully happy to have this headstrong, yet respectful, Kiwi at her side. On her wedding anniversary last year, I sent a card and she called back in reply in full bubble: they had decided they were wanting to start a family soon. Three months ago I got a sweet, almost tearful, voice mail that I would soon be an 'Auntie' again. Things on the Joy Forever and Ever Train were speeding along.

Apparently until this past Friday.

Mr. Auckland apparently wasn't so sick after all, despite being out as such from his work since Tuesday. Although K had been out of town with an ill relative, she decided that her dear hubby needed her more and decided to come home from her trip early...and unannounced. As a person who's never really been savagely cheated on, I can't imagine exactly what she witnessed upon her arrival. But I do know it involved another woman and her 'beloved' husband...in the half-finished room that was to become her first child's nursery.

By the time K called me yesterday, she'd already been on a tear. It would seem that K's 'perfect man' from the great nation of NZ hasn't been such a great wonder after all. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned', indeed. Bank accounts, credit card accounts, clothes, a truck, a motorcycle, an interrupted call to the INS, a completed call to his parents back in Napier (oi vey)...God only knows what else I don't even know about yet. At some point, a mutual friend of ours had hunted K down and brought her back to a reasonably calm state. The dear mama-to-be is still beyond furious and is vowing a 'slash and burn' campaign that would have made General Sherman's march to Atlanta "look like a fire drill".

K, hun, I don't know what to say...and I won't put up what you wanted me to about him here...but my heart bleeds out for you, as you clearly are in as much pain as I've ever known you to have. With your approval, I've put up what I feel I comfortably can as a 'warning' to our sisters, married and unmarried alike. I did find this Carrie Underwood video (from YouTube, as usual) "Before He Cheats"...and, sadly, it fits. I love ya, hun, and will support you and your unborn innocent babe in all of this as best as I can. I'm low on bail money, though, hun...so don't go completely apeshit (though I may be saying that too late and after the fact).


Men, women, Kiwis and non-Kiwis, cheaters high and low all alike, remember this: The truth will always win out, people...and it probably will be very painful when it does.

Now, what to do with this bastard called her husband...

1 comment:

Liz said...

Oh that is terrible. Your poor friend and her poor unborn child. What an ass her husband is. You are so right, the truth does always out itself. Either the person gets caught or they can't keep the secret anymore and they tell.