I used to feel sorry for him, thinking he didn't realize that the way he was acting was wrong (or maybe that I was the one in the wrong because he was perfectly justified.) I remembered an incident from about a month ago this morning that pretty much leads me to believe he does realize he is wrong for his actions--he just hopes I am too stupid to realize it. I put it in my journal, but I am going to paste it here because it actually made me laugh when I remembered the whole thing through. Sorry, it's long, but the end is worth it. It seems to clarify for me that he is aware; I don't feel so sorry for him anymore.
About a month ago, I was woke up at 4 am to him trying to have sex with me--regardless of how many times I have asked him not to do this, he continues to do it. I was particularly sleepy at this time and unable to even feign an interest (apparently, no amount of vaseline was enough this morning) (sorry to sound vulgar but that was pretty much what it amounted to.) We live in an apartment, pretty big--about 1300 sq.ft--which is actually the third floor of a very large home. The neighbor in the downstairs apartment had been out of town for a while and the other tenant is in the basement apartment. We come in our entrance, up two flights of steps, and then through another door to get to our home. When you first come in the door, you walk into the living area, my son's room (even though he isn't here, this will always be his room) is to your immediate right, you walk straight ahead into the kitchen/dining area, the girls' room is to the right off the kitchen. You have to go through the living area to come to the office, bathroom, and our bedroom--just a little background.

Anyway, he couldn't "make it happen" this particular morning, so I was a loser, bitch, and a worthless wife. He then exits our room to go to the bathroom to get ready for work; immediately he storms back in the bedroom and says "you need to go see what the fuck is on fire out there." I jump up, get dressed, and go running out of the room. At this point, he is calmly cleaning up to get ready for work. I smell a strong odor of what smells like wires burning coming from the vicinity of the kitchen/living area. Remember, our daughters are in a room just off the kitchen. I am hunting high and low trying to figure out what is on fire; I don't see smoke, but the smell is continuing to get stronger. He comes out and says "well what is it?" I tell him I have no idea. Instead of trying to help me figure it out, he leaves. About 15 minutes later, I am still trying to figure out what is going on and wondering what the hell I should do. He calls to ask if I've found the source yet. I inform him that I have not; I am unable to pull down the attic door--not strong enough--but I am going to call my mom and ask if the girls can come there while I am at work because I am afraid to leave them in the house, and I think I should call the landlord since I can't find the source of the smell and I don't know if the house is going to burn down around them while I am at work. I am also coughing and choking at this time because the smell is awful. He hangs up on me. I call my mom and she insists I call the fire department immediately because it could be anything.

Now, I am not really an idiot. It was barely 5 am and I really didn't want to wake all my neighbors if this was nothing. T apparently thought it wasn't that important because he left us there to deal with it--he's a man, if he thought the house was on fire wouldn't he have been a little more concerned? (Silly me...I forgot for a second who I was dealing with). Long story short, I call the fire department, they come out and figure out it is the CFC that has gone up; there are no fires within the wall or anything, but we need to get it fixed. Of course this woke the entire neighborhood, including my landlord who lives in a house next door to us. Mind you, nearly two hours have gone by since I last spoke to my loving husband and the father of my girls. At this point, I have to get ready to go to work and I still have to take the girls to my mom's. (Even though the fire dept. says it was nothing serious, I am still nervous about leaving them home alone).

I am on the way to my mom's at nearly 7, when the phone rings. It is him wanting to know what I am doing. I relay the information that I am taking the girls to my mom's and that the fire dept came out, blah blah blah. This caused a one week fight for us...a BIG fight because as my husband he should have been the first person I called to let him know there was a problem at the house. See, this is the kind of shit that really irritates him--I never let him know anything that is going on, he is always the last to know. I am absolutely flabbergasted at this point because obviously you did know, you are the one who told me. If you had been all that concerned wouldn't you have stayed to see it through or at the very least called to make sure we hadn't burned up before two hours had passed?! It finally comes out that he is disturbed--what will other people think of him if I tell them that story, that he left us knowing there was something burning. AHHHH.....so you do recognize that you are an ass after all?! Who knew~