The Devil You Know...

Chris is going to Italy in March. I'm sad because last time he went there, has asked me to go with him. In fact the last two times he went to Italy he asked me to go with him. We even found a favorite hotel in The Netherlands when we first landed and returned to the same hotel on our second trip. My first trip to Italy was a dream come true, the first time I had ever been to Europe.

This trip I'm not invited -- though to be fair, the flight would not be a good idea with my lymphedema. Flying has been known to exacerbate the symptoms of lymphedema. Lately I have had several non-life-threatening (yet) infections and do not need to cause further damage.

Nevertheless, I am troubled about the trip though I'm trying to be an adult about it. What choice do I have? I feel left out. From our (before-any-real-trouble-starts) couples therapy, I guess I'd say that I'm disappointed. Disappointment is supposed to be okay, it's just uncomfortable while you move through it. I can't decide exactly why I'm disappointed except that I will miss Chris for those 2.5 weeks though if he were here, we'd probably see each other daily, and be boring as per. He would occasionally move in to kiss me with his very sharp, bristly beard and I would complain that kissing him is like kissing a barbeque grill cleaning brush. I'm disappointed because the adult part of me really wants Chris to have a great time on this trip though the little kid inside of me is really sad that Chris is going to Italy with someone else who just happens to be Satan.

Chris made plans to go to Italy with a friend of his who treated me like shit during the last trip to Italy. This friend, Satan came along for part of the trip and ruined it with his 'tude. If Chris were honest, Satan ruined the trip for him too. That explanation is the shortest, mature-as-I-can-force-myself-to-be-under-the-circumstances version of the story; the only part I will tell because the long version is painful, fiery, smokey, dusty, nasty and mean. Suffice it to say the guy was a Class A jerk. (Don't know what a Class B jerk or Class C is etc...)

Chris later tried to explain away the shitty behavior of his friend by telling me that he felt Satan wished that I had been Chris's dead wife (only alive still). Alas. I was on the heals of losing my own husband a few years earlier. I guess I was supposed to take Satan's horrendous behavior as a sign of his unrelenting grief over Chris's wife's death in 2003. You know, just buck up and be a man about it? -- Not open my mouth for the one full week of hell we spent with him (while he rode in the back seat of our way-too-small-rented car, body shoved up hard against a set of wheels that Chris bought at the swap meet when I wanted to shove those wheels up his surly ass?) Didn't I deserve some patience and kindness for my own loss or are those perks only reserved for thoughtless, self-centered jerks?

I wanted Chris to dislike Satan for the way he treated me but he wouldn't. (I have some issues with control okay?) Even if Satan were grieving over Chris's dead wife, that's no excuse to treat me like crap. Chris says their group always invites Satan on these swap meet trips because Satan helps them haul the stuff they buy -- like a raging, nasty gorilla moving through the crowd of crinklely old Italian men hawking their ancient car parts -- certainly one of the foundations for true male friendship.

I'm glad I can use the unpleasant side-effects of flying and it's effects on lymphedema to hide behind as a reason I can't go with Chris because if I couldn't use that excuse I would know that we've reached the point in our relationship where I know it's more fun for him to go to Italy with an asshole than to invite me, and I am afraid to find out what that says about me.