Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Fupped Duck

I used the term Fupped Duck as the title because it is likely to be the most interesting turn of phrase that I use in this post. It's also a lot craftier than saying F'd up when you mean fucked up, and I always prefer being crafty to being vulgar.

SO... I just read all three parts of an epic written by Hey You! Remember Me? who should be in the running for best blog name. Her thing seems to be gettin in all out and with the story she has to tell about her drunk step-dad, it's no wonder it was a three part saga to get it all out. Happy ending though, well worth reading all three parts.

My experience as a kid was profoundly different. I lived in a nice house in a nice neighborhood, with two parents who always loved me and never fought. And yet, for all this, I was still Fupped Duck all though my high school years.

For starters (brace yourself for some real stupidity here) I was envious of all my friends with divorced parents. It seemed like some exclusive club that I would obviously never have the proper credentials to get in. It all seemed so exotic.

Yeah, gimme a call this weekend. I'll be at my Dad's.

Sorry, I forgot my homework at my Mom's.

Phrases that I was sad would never cross my lips. Add to that the fact that all the club members seemed to be a little bitter toward me about my non-divorced parents. (Not only non-divorced, but after thirty some years of marriage have yet to have their first fight!) I was on the other side of my ten year reunion before I realized that all the club members were envious of me because I didn't have to deal with alcoholic parents throwing things at each other, so of course they did what you do when you're fifteen and envious... you're a bastard.

Quack, Quack...

The other thing that really hung me up after growing up in that environment was my own relationships. The first hang up was the deep depression that came with every break up. Not because I was going to particularly miss the girl or anything, but because she turned out not to be my wife. Even though it wasn't a concious thought at that age, what I wanted most in life was to be married, and it was such a bitch to constantly fall short of that goal.

The second hang up was that my bench mark for relationships was my parents' marriage. I thought that all relationships were supposed to go like that. Obviously teenagers can't hold it together once the bloom is off the rose and you have to actually work at a relationship. That, of course, is the point where love actually begins, and I didn't get that one figured out until I met my wife. Googely eyes and love notes are nice and all, but when you can look at some one past piles of dirty laundry and think, "DAMN! I love her!!!" that's when you're really getting somewhere.

So, I'm still Fupped Duck. My problems with perception could easily fill a triple-post epic. My love of sarcasm slash inability to detect it is a real side splitter. But at least I finally stopped being Fupped Duck about relationships and I'm

Hold it... proud's not even the word here. I should have a blog contest to find the word that means supremely, superlatively, thumbs-in-suspenders, proud

of the fact that I finally got past myself to be really in love with someone, dirty laundry and all. I've been married to my wife for nearly seven years and we have yet to have our first fight. The more hectic things get, the more in love we find ourselves. Dreams do come true folks, you just have to get rid of that duck.


Pamela said...

yer nahce.

'That Girl' said...

"Beaming" (proud?)

Thanks so much for the little shout out..I think that's the whole key to let problems bring you closer, tighten the team so to speak.