She Deserves Flowers
By: Bethany Brown
Tags: Divorce, Dads, Feminism

By Bethany Brown

My dad once told me that he would pay me $25,000 to not have a wedding. He said it’s a waste of money and he’s sure I will have a few. I sat there in silence, dug my fingernails into my palm under the table, shoved a French fry into my mouth and laughed it off. Dick.

I think we’ve reached the end of the road, texted the man who was married to my mom for over two decades. Her first and only husband. The man who I call father but never feels like a dad. He feels more like a colleague or business partner. We talk about finances, and work, and never about emotions or deeper aspects of my life that matter to me. He cuts me off mid-sentence and redirects the conversation to whatever it is that he wants to talk about. His voice will always be louder. If I so much as attempt to spark a conversation having to do with boys, or what I like to write about, or how I’m feeling, it’s dismissed. Eye rolling and a big ole GROSS, TMI. It’s like I’m talking to a toddler.

His sense of humor is dark, slightly offensive to most and his sarcasm is top-tier. He makes me laugh so hard I could puke. And somehow even when he’s roasting me making me feel like a complete moron, I laugh. My sense of humor is exactly the same so when we’re together — it’s a bit much. We like to talk shit about people who are incompetent. That’s one of our favorite words. Whether that be the horrible driver in front of us on the road, or somebody at work that seriously just irks us. I remember when I was younger, he would grade our burps. I don’t think I ever scored above a C+. He would squeeze me and my brother in between his legs and tickle us, never letting go. We’d scream and laugh until tears were flooding our eyes. We’d climb on top of him on the couch like a jungle gym and sometimes he’d lift us up by putting us on his feet and straightening his legs upwards. I felt like I was flying.

He ended their marriage with a lengthy text message and by leaving in the middle of the day when he assumed nobody would be home. I overheard my mom telling my aunt about the text message, so I logged into her phone after she went to sleep and read it myself. She has always called me “elephant ears” because I overhear everything.

He didn’t just leave her, he left us, my older brother and me. I was fifteen years old, ditching school that day and caught him in the act right before he walked out the door. I knew he was leaving by the way he was swiftly moving, rummaging through his closets, and the bags stuffed with his belongings on the floor. I picked up one of the bags and started to unpack it — he picked up each item of clothing I threw on the ground and placed it in another bag. I sobbed. Begged him to stay. He didn’t turn around, explain, or hug me. He didn’t care I collapsed onto the floor hysterically and had jet black eyeliner dripping down my face. He just said we’ll touch base in a few weeks. Touch. Base.

My first boyfriend cheated on me when I went on vacation to New York City for spring break. He was a junior at my high school, and I was a freshman. It was around 1:00 AM east coast time and I got a text from him saying that he’d be right back baby. Knowing I was 2,789 miles away from him, I knew that text was not intended for me. I questioned him. Called approximately 18 times with no answer. He told me to chill — played it off as if he meant it as a joke to one of his guy friends. When I got back to Los Angeles, he avoided me for a few days and on the fourth day, he confirmed. He fucked my best friend who I shared a locker with at school. I wanted to die and for a second I thought I was capable of committing a double homicide.

He was young, who cares. My dad will still tell you how much he liked that kid.

We were no walk at the beach. My brother and I both had some serious teen angst and behavioral issues at school — he was aggressive and angry, and I was loud and would always talk back to my authority figures. I was that bitch. My dad was the principal of my high school, so I think that’s where the sense of entitlement and indestructibility came from. We didn’t always make it easy for our parents and acted out because we wanted to be seen. Any attention was better than none. I alternated between cussing them out or going weeks without saying a single word. One night I snuck out of the house after everyone had already gone to bed to go smoke weed with some friends — when I got home my dad was still sleeping but my mom was up waiting for me. She was livid and questioned me about my whereabouts. I yelled fuck you at her with every expectation for her to slap me across the face but instead she grabbed me and hugged me. She wouldn’t let go when I tried to push her off of me. I broke down in tears and it was as if a hundred years of built up anger and sadness were pouring out of me uncontrollably.

He never let me cry growing up. He made it a point to program me like a robot. Be strong, and never allow myself to be vulnerable. I stood by that full heartedly and would splash my face with water if I felt like a tear was coming. For a while, I was glad my dad made me believe showing emotion is a weakness and that in order to survive and get the furthest in life, I need to disconnect. He’s a hard ass but he’s so right, I thought. I remember thinking I wanted to be just like him.

Boyfriend number two also fucked my best friend. But it was a different best friend and we were more like frenemies. (Don’t worry — I got new friends eventually.) She was also my neighbor and we had known each other since we were five years old. He would kiss me goodbye and leave my house, walk across the street and go hang out with her. The following day, she’d act like the world’s most caring friend and ask me about my life and my day. I found out a couple months later when his name kept popping up on her phone. He told me it was my fault because I didn’t show enough emotional interest and made him feel neglected and I believed him. I fought for him back.

I can’t list three separate occasions where I saw my parents kiss growing up. Or hold hands. Or dance around the kitchen together like all the couples in the movies do. I can’t remember a time where I even saw them sit on the same couch. He never wanted to celebrate birthdays or Valentine’s Day because he thought they were stupid and a waste of money.

I remember going to school and telling my classmates how dumb Valentine’s Day is because my dad said it, and I believed him. It’s nothing but a marketing gimmick I said, having no idea what that even meant at the time. Love is stupid and not real. I believed that, too. The other kids responded with objections or silence as they looked uncomfortable and one time one of them told the teacher I was being negative, and I got in trouble. She told me it was okay to believe that and feel the way I did, but to keep it to myself.

He never gave my mom gifts or verbalized any appreciation for her. Flowers die. It’s a waste. She stood by in silence. Her voice was nonexistent prior to the divorce. She always left gifts out for all of us. Even on the random holidays like St. Patrick’s Day and Groundhog Day. Shamrock socks or chocolates and a note with a happy face and cute one-liner. She was gentle in the way she spoke to us and gave us kisses in the morning and before bed. She apologized for my dad’s harsh words regularly, with disgust in her bright blue eyes. I think she stayed with him for so long because despite the bad, she can always see the good in people and their heart. She knows they can do better. It just becomes a matter of if they will.

I convinced myself that I wouldn’t ever want flowers either. It’s a waste of money, I told my boyfriends — setting the bar extremely low because that’s all I ever knew. In my mind, they were the best boyfriend in the entire world if they simply responded to my text in a timely manner, held the door open for me or held my hand once.

Number three didn’t fuck my best friend. He just fucked his ex — girlfriend. Consistently. I showed up at his house unannounced one day as I knew his parents were at work and he stayed home sick from his shitty job at a fast food joint. I wanted to surprise him. When I got there, his ex — girlfriend’s car was there. I knew what her car looked like because I had seen it before and made an effort to stalk her whereabouts since I had caught them in contact with each other multiple times and she was ruthless when it came to remaining in his life. I figured they were inside together and probably banging in every room of the house — while he simultaneously texted me how much he misses me and how sick he was. I never said anything to him about that day. I just texted him goodnight feel better, secretly sobbed for three days straight, binge ate Ben and Jerry’s half-baked ice cream, and went about my daily routine as if nothing had happened.

The motto I lived by. What am I doing wrong that led him to do this?

My mom found out about my dad’s first marriage on the day of their wedding because my dad’s older brother’s wife made a joke to her about it. Third time’s the charm. She didn’t know she was number three — she thought she was the second. It was obviously not the charm. He got remarried within three months of their divorce to his former lover from college, yet he swears he didn’t cheat. He is now in his mid-sixties, on his fourth marriage with her and is still unhappy. He told me this when we got breakfast burritos one morning. I just want to find a female me, you know? He looked defeated and I remember feeling sad for him. My older brother thinks he just isn’t meant to be with anybody because he’s not programmed that way. Robot, remember?

It was my decision to allow these boyfriends to walk all over me. I continued to give them 250% of my being, despite knowing they weren’t worthy, in hopes that one day they’d reciprocate it or love me in a way I so desperately wanted to be loved by a man. There was no image set of what the ideal partner should look like to go off of, so when they would show me a miniscule amount of care — I’d panic and fantasize about the rest of my life with them just because they were kind to me for a moment. I turned to material goods and tried to prove my love with money. Buying them a brand new $500 watch just because. Or a surprise trip to the beach and a luxury hotel booking.

My mom says she doesn’t regret their marriage because it gifted her with me and my brother. She handled it with such grace and is a kick ass, independent woman with no man by her side and I have never seen her happier. She found her voice again the second he left. Wine nights with her girlfriends, laughing constantly, talking to us about our own lives and interests, and making it damn clear when she doesn’t agree with something. She reminded me that despite the brainwashing over the years, she deserved flowers.