Midlife Crisis

There's a myriad of controversy over whether or not men go through a mid-life crisis. I'm here to settle the debate once and for all. The answer would be a resounding YES!!!

You may ask, "How do you know this?" "Have you been doing research?" "Are you a sociologist who is working on her Ph.D?" No, no, and no! However, I am married to a fifty-year-old. Enough said.

Now, some of you may believe that the mid-life crisis begins with the losing weight, adding hair where there may not be any, buying new clothes, watches and/or cars. I am here to tell you, it's not so obvious. It's subtle. Sort of like that 40th birthday that sneaks up on you. You still feel like an 18-year-old on the inside but on the outside, you are absolutely falling apart; unless you have money and a good plastic surgeon, that is.

My husband's mid-life crisis began at say age 43. All of a sudden, he was crabby. This was something new. He was always an easy-going sort of fella. Then one day -- I think it was his birthday -- BOOM! Crabby! All of a sudden, I started thinking, am I spending the rest of my life with a crabby old man??? I always thought that was a stereotype. Who knew it wasn't? I didn't sign up for this! For better or worse? Who the hell came up with that line? It should be "for better". Period. End of story. But no -- some moron decided we should stay with someone even if something unforeseen happens -- like crabbiness!

OK, well, I could MAYBE deal with this crabby new husband....perhaps I was crabby and he was just reacting to me? A possibility? Doubtful but I was willing to give it some consideration.

Then, one day, he up and decides to go to Iraq. For a whole year. Well, not that I liked it, approved of it, or even wanted him to go, (though I would be rid of this crab for a year) -- I agreed. Not that I had a choice because he WAS going. I did manage to convince myself it was altruistic, patriotic and all that other good stuff. And it paid well (which made the sacrifice all the easier to swallow). So, I said, "Bon Voyage -- and DUCK!"

A year goes by -- we see him once -- then I get a phone call. He's signed another contract. Then another year goes by and he signs another contract. Somehow, I'm seeing a pattern here. Let's see....go to work, come home to a clean house, 3 squares a day, and no kids or nagging wife. Hmmmmm, I can see the appeal. Meanwhile, during his vacations with us, he is looking for a Corvette. Oh, and he's dropped 60 lbs. Do I sense a crisis??? There's one brewing alright but not the kind he thinks -- it's me, ready to lose my freakin' mind because I'm on duty 24/7 with two teenagers in the house.

Well, fast forward a year and a half later. We are now on our 4th year of separation. He has managed to take a job in Las Vegas -- you want to talk Paradise for a single guy -- that would be it. The only thing is he's working his ass off as an insurance agent in 110 degree heat. Ahhhh, sweet revenge.

He is planning a comeback at my behest, so I guess there is hope after all. We've been married 27 years. Oh and this year's anniversary was the best ever -- I spent it in the ER getting my ear sewed back together after our dog bit most of it off! I have to say, it was one of our more memorable ones even though he wasn't here. I sent him a text message with a picture of the bloody ear saying "Happy Anniversary"!

My husband's 50 now -- I'm 49...we're down to one teenager in the house. I'm hoping we can manage to live together. Four years is a damned long time to be separated. Perhaps the crabby is gone -- maybe he got it all out of his system. He's fat again and we don't own a Corvette, so perhaps there's hope. At least, he didn't get a tattoo or some bizarre piercing-- that's forever.

Oh, one last thing...I'm seriously menopausal -- What's that expression again? Oh yeah, turn about is fair play.