TC leaves for NYC tomorrow. I will be alone. Very alone. I’m not going to like it, he clearly doesn’t like it, but it’s what’s going to happen and we’re simply going to have to endure it. What’s the alternative?

The lesson I have learned in the last 4 years is that integrity and character matter.  These are attributes you don’t turn on or off, nor do you acquire them after reading some self-help book from Amazon. You do things right and do people right, not because you give a fuck about them, but because you give a fuck about yourself (or at least I hope you do). It would seem that the most abusive relationship you will have is indeed with yourself. Quit worrying about everyone else, worry about yourself.

As a kid, my mother would hammer into me about trying to do things right and associating myself with people who do things right. I would roll my eyes, “motherly talk”. But damn if she wasn’t right.

For example, Peter is a really cool guy, fun to hang out with and could often quite caring, but he demonstrated a clear lack of character. Why in god’s name would I want to have purported friends, business associates or acquaintances who can’t demonstrate integrity & character. Clearly we all can be f’d up after that with all sorts of craziness. But lacking base ingredients?

Many of us (including myself) seem hesitant to tell others about who we are. We define ourselves as if our lives were lived on Facebook. We’re glamorous, cool, chic,  fun, exciting, and of course all of us are seemingly ‘hot’. The reality none of that would seem to matter to me at least much, if you lack integrity and character.

I feel like the lecturing mother here to you. But the reality is I’m lecturing myself. I can smell people of ill repute, yet I will often over ride these first impressions, because of some other factor, basically suppressing my gut feel. Yet, in the end, the true person always shines thru.

Do you have integrity and character? Who is going to say NO to that question on a date or job interview. But it’s not a question, it’s a life style.

I’m will be alone. I don’t do well alone. Gonna have to reverse the locks. Pray with me now.

Peter has always been concerned about managing his ‘image’. So when his fiancée scoured this blog, she found out that he wasn’t Greg Brady. Truth be told, she ain’t a Marcia Brady either (as I found out from different sources).  But for both of them the image of being a happy Marcia and Greg couple was important.

How about you? How honest would you be with another person about your past life? Are you happy with your story as it truly was written or as you’d like to see it written? Perhaps with a bit more or less color. Leave out a few sentences as well. Just a nip n’ tuck, you might think.

How do you start or have a relationship with someone when you’re working double time to cover up things you done previously? What does that say about you as a person? Who wants a relationship where the #1 ingredient, honesty isn’t in the mix.

Of course, you can tilt the truth. I mean, if they don’t ask, you don’t have to volunteer. They likely have something to hide as well, right? It’s all one big game in the end and no wonder people can’t stay together. Too many stories.

I am who I am, carrying my satchel of faults down the road, but I hope we all try to have integrity and honesty as key ingredients.

On the drive back to my apartment, I spoke with my wife for the 30 minutes it took. We’ve been doing this regularly. She seems to like the calls, no hurry to ring off. I usually call on the pre-text of checking on something tactical and we end up just talking. She’s a great girl, we’re still a couple in some odd sort of way.

In writing this blog, I’ve realized I’ve left off bit n’ bobs about things. Not fair, really. I render an eloquent opinion on all things not me. Things me tend to be manly and superman in nature. But in a desire to pursue factual over fiction, I pursue the goal of being truthful.

Years ago, the exact date/time immaterial, I was living at home, embroiled in the whole state of “what has my husband done”. I had taken up residence in the guest room, not yet prepared to abandon my kingdom. My wife not yet prepared to accept the fate that awaited both of us.

I am snug in my bed and the wife wants to have an argument. Something about why I like cock. It’s 11.30 p.m. The kids well into bed at night. I try and calm the situation. Go to bed, we can talk about it tomorrow. But the woman is fired up, she won’t let it go. In to my face she goes, relentless. Please let this end.

I strike out. My arm extends with rapid force striking her in the throat. She gasps with air, her voice immediately changed and falls to the floor. The kids all emerge, like rats on a sinking ship, what is going on. Oh my god, what have I done.

The mood changes. I need to take charge. It is time to help my spouse. She gasps for air. Hurt, angry, sad and now hurt. I try to bring calm to the situation. She utters more evil towards me. I am in charge. Calm returns. She beds back down after a while. The kids return to their beds. I prop her up in the master bedroom and retire back to the guest room. I do not sleep. She does not either.

The morning arrives, she is still gasping for air. I am not a doctor but I don’t like this. We bundle up and off to the ER she goes and is immediately admitted. I had forgot triage, but breathing and circulation tend to be important in maintaining life. IV’s go in, a specialist is called. I worry, she relaxes.

The specialist looks, severe inflammation of the throat, he worries, the airway passage had narrowed to the size of a straw, a blood clot had formed. Medication is prescribed. More IV’s.

Luckily, the worse had actually passed in the night, the medication reduced the inflammation and some hours later, we went home. The nurse asking for a report on how the accident happened. My wife explained she had slipped and fell. Kinda of an unusual accident, but since my wife was saying this without duress, she didn’t press the issue.

We rode home. Life continued. I took her a long distance in the coming weeks for the throat surgeon for check-ups and my wife fully recovered. We never spoke about it again. I was sorry immediately. I am sorry now. We are talking on the phone as I make my 30 minute commute home.

I was not in charge that night. It takes a while to flare me up, I blow fast at certain pressures and then calm down fast. That’s me. It’s not often I blow. In fact, it’s rarely, almost memorable.

I tell you this, not to clear my chest, my wife has, I believe, forgiven me though I haven’t forgiven myself. But to illustrate, in stark reality, the challenge you may be facing. Along these paths, I have faced things, that I’d never seen before, things I didn’t want to face. But the tape is running, there are no do-overs, it’s all live and you just play it out. I hope for you the best.