Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Note:  This is an old post that I had written in February and never posted.  Thought I'd share now.  I didn't think then that I'd be revisiting this question so soon and in such an immediate fashion.  

My husband and I were at a New Year's Eve party this year at our neighbor's house.  I told two of the guys there the story of how I got a $25 iTunes gift card for Christmas a few years ago.  I was pissed.  Now I love iTunes.  I download music all of the time.  I hear a song on the radio I like, and with few clicks and $1.29, it is mine.  My husband makes a decent amount of money and we've known each other for a long time.  I am not high maintenance and I don't need fancy jewelry (see the post "Pearls"), but for crying out loud -- he got me a Christmas present the day before in the checkout line at the grocery store.  It required as much thought as buying a box of Kleenex.  I spent the whole f--ing month of December running around town buying gifts for him and the family, writing Christmas cards, baking, etc.  I cried for two days after I got the gift card.

The following Christmas, we went to Maui.  The trip was Jack's idea and he planned the whole thing.  "Now no one can complain they aren't having a good Christmas because we are in Maui," he reminded us after an awesome day of walking the black sand beach and settling in for a marathon session of Monopoly after dark.

At this New Year's Eve party, I also told the two guys a story from 1992 about how Jack (my then boyfriend) got drunk, got in a fight, and then threw up in my kitchen sink.  Jack and I had gone out for pizza with his friend Chris.  They were having a boys night out, and I decided to call it a night and go home.  Which was fine with me.  I like Chris.  He is a good guy.  I knew Chris before I knew Jack, and I was happy to let them hang out.

I was at home in my apartment in Lincoln Park reading a book.  We lived in a yuppie part of town, filled with recent college grads working in the Loop or going to graduate school.  It is a pretty quiet and safe part of town.  Imagine my surprise when I heard out the window.

"Fuck you, asshole."

"No, fuck you."

Wait, one those voices is Jack's, I thought.  He was a medical student, and swearing like a sailor.  I open the door the apartment, and I heard some ruckus.  Chris comes up the stairs with a bloody nose.  Another drunk guy was trying to get back into a party upstairs, and Jack wouldn't let in him.  Fists flew, and Chris was the victim.  Jack's face was drained of all color.  He said he was getting a drink of water, and walked to the bathroom.  I said he could get a glass of water in the kitchen.  He came back to the kitchen, and then vomited in the sink.

The next day, I said to myself, "I am done.  I don't need this in my life."  I took the El up to Evanston to get my haircut.  At the time, I was working at consulting firm where we were doing market research on a new cell phone.  I had a phone to test as part of the study, so I called my friend Kelli to see if she was available to dinner that night.  She wasn't home, so I got on the train and headed back into town.

As I was walking to the train, I got a phone call.  It was Jack.  He had scored two tickets to the Bulls game for that night and asked if I wanted to go.  He was working part time at a running shoe store and the owner had season tickets in row 12, center court, right behind Michael Jordan's father's seats.

I said yes.  And things were fine.

This was not some "I am going to be a total doofus and bring my angry girlfriend to a lame sporting event to make amends."  The Bulls were the hottest thing in town.  These tickets were a huge score.  Jack later said when the boss gave them up for grabs, he thought, I really really need these tickets.

Above and over the top seems to win me over, although I'd prefer not to get an iTunes gift card for Christmas or to watch my then drunken boyfriend get in a fight and puke in my sink.

Fast forward to the New Year's Eve party, 2013/14.  There was a new neighbor there, and he listened to both stories.  At the end, he said, "In one story, you said you were really pissed, and in the other you said 'I don't need this.'  As a guy, I'd like to understand the difference between the two.  I can understand pissed off, but at what point does a woman say, 'I don't need this'?"

Note again from today: I didn't finish the story, which is probably why I didn't post it.  When I wrote this back in the winter, my thoughts for an answer were simple:  Now we have two kids and a mortgage.  It is much harder to leave.  But now that I have been and am going through a much harder test, saving a marriage just for the kids and mortgage doesn't seem reasonable when you sincerely question your spouse's commitment to the marriage.  "Should I stay or should I go?" becomes much more complicated.  Yes, kids and house are two big factors.  Economic disparities are another.  Back in the 1990's, I was his rich girlfriend and later rich wife.  I really wasn't rich, but relatively so.  I had a reasonable income and had almost no debt except for a very affordable and manageable student loan payment, while he had a small income and oppressive student loans.  We had no kids and other liabilities, so I could easily choose independence.  Aside from not having a steady companion, the day-to-day part of my life wouldn't change.  Divorce at this stage would be an altogether different animal.

So, at what point do I stay or go?  What are the decision points?  A week or two ago, Jack asked me what I wanted.  "I want to love someone and be loved in return."  He was stunned and shocked by the simplicity of my request.  Chris, the same Chris who went out drinking with Jack in 1992, gave me some advice in recent days.  I told him the status quo was intolerable.  How would I know when to call it quits?  His reply: "Will he change?  If he can't, you know your answer."