Alcoholic Husband Fable

The alcoholic husband fable was built from a conglomeration of stories I have heard over years of attending open AA meetings with my alcoholic addict wife. Some of the stories you hear at these meetings are sad. Some are funny. Some are down right scary. While the alcoholic husband fable is made up, unfortunately there is nothing in it that isn't authentic.

The Alcoholic Husband Fable

My name is George and they say I’m an alcoholic. Sure, I’ve always liked a drink now and then, but so do lots of people. I never lived on the street. I always took care of my family. I always had a job. I don’t know what they mean.

After graduating from college, I married Linda my high school sweetheart. I found myself a pretty good job and settled down. No more binge drinking for me, that’s college stuff. I didn't plan for Linda to have an alcoholic husband like my mother had. Sure, I would have a few drinks after work each day. Just like our friends. We would all get together for parties on the weekend. But I never went to work drunk, not like some of the losers I met in college that would be so drunk that they couldn’t even find their lecture halls. And I didn’t drive drunk, well mostly.

The hitting begins

The first time I hit my wife was after the baby was born. He was always crying and Linda couldn’t seem to get him to stop. A man’s got to have his sleep if he is going to work in the morning. She was always complained about being tired even though she didn’t have to work or anything. All she did was hang out at home and play with the baby all day.

I don’t know why she was upset that I’d go out to have a few drinks after work. She couldn’t seem to keep beer in the house and anyway it was too noisy with the crying baby. One time when I got home from the bar she started nagging me for more money. Again. Enough was enough. I slapped her. I only did it once, just to get her attention. It wasn’t any big thing, but she got all sulky and sullen. At least she made sure the baby was quiet and let me get a good night’s sleep.

...and continues

The next time I hit her was a few weeks later. Again with nagging and the screaming baby. Doesn’t she get it? I’m the man, I bring home the paycheck, and I give her an allowance for food and stuff. What does she want? Anyway, when I got back from the bar she and the baby were gone.

Then next day was my day off, so after a few drinks with lunch to improve my mood, I got some flowers and went over to her mother’s house to apologize. The old bitch didn’t want to let me through to door, but I pushed in anyway. When the police arrived, Linda and I were already in a shouting match. The stupid cops wouldn’t listen to reason. I guess I must have had been a little drunk because even though there were only two of them, they were still able to arrest me. What’s the world coming to that a man can’t have a fight with his wife without someone butting in?

Anyway, I did my 30 days and went home. The judge told me that the court did not look kindly upon alcoholic husband's who beat their wives. He would have put me away longer if he could have, the bastard.

Linda had packed up and left with the baby. Good riddance. I lost my job but found another one. The pay wasn’t as good, but that was okay because with Linda and the baby gone, I didn’t have as many expenses. Even better, I had more time to drink and hang with my friends. I’m not sure why I got married in the first place. I even found a girlfriend who liked to drink with me. She’s a lot more fun than Linda ever was.

Things would have been fine if Linda hadn’t gotten uppity. One day I got served papers from Linda’s lawyer. She was filing for divorce. That was fine with me. Where do I sign? Only thing is, she wanted alimony and child support. Why should I be stuck with paying for a wife that left me and for a kid that I never wanted in the first place? That made me really mad. Where does she get off?

...and then stalking

I didn’t know where Linda was living, but I figured her mother would know, so I spent some time watching her house and following her when she went out. Sure enough one day she went to visit Linda in some crappy little apartment. Later that night, after a few stiff drinks to get my head straight, I went calling on Linda. I didn’t take any flowers this time, just my .38.

So anyway, they say I’m an alcoholic. I don’t know why. Do you know how hard it is to get a drink in prison? And that’s just some hooch that was cooked up in the prison kitchen with left over fruit. It’s going to be at least another 25 years before I get a chance to have a real drink. How can I be an alcoholic if I can’t even drink?

The End

Is your alcoholic violent? GET HELP!

Violence in alcoholic marriages is all too common. While the alcoholic husband fable is a story, it reflects the fears of too many women. If your alcoholic husband is violent, the thing to remember is that, like other alcoholic behavior, violence usually escalates. The longer you wait to make a change, the harder it gets.

If you feel you can do it safely, get help. Most towns and cities have organizations and shelters to help those dealing with violence from an alcoholic husband. Check the telephone book or the Internet. Or contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at the number listed here. But do it away from home. You could be putting yourself in danger if your abuser catches you searching for information about domestic violence.

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