Once upon a time – about 26 years ago -I had a girlfriend who was dating my someday-to-be BIL. She was a gold-digger. A “me-me-me” woman. One thing on her mind. It wasn’t all her fault. Her father had raised her and her sister to look out for “Number One” first. That was her goal. Marry money, to heck with love.
BIL wasn’t rich, by any means, but he did have a good job and was still in his 20’s and living with his parents. He tried to give this girl anything she wanted. Remember, this was the late 70’s… she wanted a rabbit fur jacket. He got it for her. She gloated. She would go on and on about this dumb guy who would buy her anything… then she was planning on breaking up with him when she got what she wanted.
I’m no moral compass, believe me, but I don’t like to see people taken advantage of. That just is a pet peeve of mine. By this time, I’d met his brother – my someday-to-be Hubby. I fell fast and hard – and, according to him – he did too. I felt especially protective of BIL because I knew this girl and felt he was really being taken for a ride.
So, I spilled the beans. I got him aside one night when we were at the state fair and had spent a little too much time in the cattleman’s bar. I was feeling particularily protective, because I’d just gotten reamed out by one of Hubby’s friends about not taking advantage of him and BIL had actually come to my rescue! I confided in him that K was taking him for a big ride. He cried. I think he really had come to love her… but I thought at that moment we truly bonded.
Flash forward 20 years.
I’ve put up with BIL’s B.S. for years. Tolerated the fact that he doesn’t respect my husband one iota. Tolerated his
brats boys. Tolerated his Barnum-and-Bailey in-laws and his witchy wife. But I won’t tolerate him telling Hubby that he “never really got over that stuff in ’95 and he’ll put up with me, and try to be nice to me when we’re together, but he really doesn’t like me anymore”.
Go Bite Yourself HARD. Like I need your approval, you pompous ass. You and your wife are the biggest hypocondriacs there are in this town, yet when someone has a real, live, debilitating illness, all you can do is go with the gossip-mongers and choose to believe your brother’s wife stepped out on him . You asshat.
Someday this is going to come out. We all try to ‘play nice’ because of MIL, but we avoid each other like the plague. I refuse to feel like a reject because part of my family can’t relate to real human pain. Guess what? I don’t care. I feel badly that I should be kinder to my husband’s family – I’m an only child and don’t have anyone except my parents that he has to put up with. It would bother me more, except I know he’s relating to what I’m feeling. He says his brother isn’t bad – by himself – but get him anywhere around his wife and/or kids and it’s a whole other story. Me, I can’t tolerate him any more by himself, either.
Sometimes I will have a Dr. Phil moment when I say to myself, “You can be bigger than this. You can go make up with BIL”… then about the time I have myself talked into it, he’ll do something so totally disrespectful of my husband that I’ll just say, “Piss on it”, and let the anger roll over me.
I’m sure this isn’t the last time I’ll be talking about this, as it’s a really sore subject. (Couldn’t tell, could ya?) I’ll try not to let it dominate the site, tho’. I’ve got better things to do. Gotta keep this ol’ egg glued together, you know…