There was a thread regarding a member here trying to break up with her lazy, unemployed, no good, mooching, vagabond, charlatan, shameless boyfriend. I want to address this situation in the hopes of helping her, and others like her, in difficult times.
I've been in your shoes. No, really, I know exactly where you are coming from when it comes to living with an unemployed, unemployable, pot smoking, rum drinking, beer chugging, charlatan, loser. I attract them like a magnet.
I have no advice to give you per say, but even if i did, i wouldn't give it to you, because, well, unfortunately, some things in this world we just have to find the answers on our own, and no advice--good or bad--is going to make a dam bit of difference. However, having said that, I want to tell you a little about my situation, in the hope that, one day, you may see similarities to your own situation and find some answers.
My name is Frank, i'm half Dominican/half American. I'm educated in both countries. Here in Cabarete, I used to live with a wild redhead. She was down right crazy. I mean like--certified, paper-carrying type crazy; she carried with her at all times a small, 8x10 vanilla folder crammed with her crazy papers inside. She carried them around with her just in case she ever got stopped by the police. Although, in retrospect, they were not needed in the least bit, because, just one look at her wild raging red hair was enough to give her craziness away to even Stevie Wonder. When my boss--Big Frank (no relation to me)--took one look at her, he saw trouble. big trouble. The financial and emotional type of trouble. He tried too warn me, but like anyone else in my situation, i didn't listen. In fact, i didn't even hear him. Yes, i saw his lips move, but he might as well have been talking to me about how to bake a cake.
A little about the redhead's background: I met this redhead at the bar where i work in Cabarete. She was absurd, frightening, bizarre, and beautiful all at the same time. She came into my workplace everyday and took her top off and rested her boobs on the bar like a sack of potatoes. She wanted her free drink--we give free drinks away to topless girls at my workplace. she came in everyday like clockwork. I knew instantly when i saw her sitting topless at the bar that it was 5pm.
This wild redhead had a lot of freckles across her chest--redheads tend to have a lot of freckles for some reason, and some of them--but certainly not all--tend to smell funny as well. She smelt funny. No joke. I could never put my finger on the reason why, but it seems to be indicative to ingeniousness redheads from northern Europe. Anyway, you could make out the continent of Europe across her chest by connecting her freckles together; they were clearly marked with magic marker. She was from another galaxy.
This wild redhead was mooching off of me all the time. she paid no rent. she paid no utilities. she did no dishes or housework. When i was at work, she would sit around the house getting high. She smoked a lot of marijuana. great quantities of it. She didn't work, so she had a lot of free time to smoke pot and get high. She got high every free chance she got--which was all day. She was lazy. very lazy. Stupid lazy. But she loved reading her horoscope every free chance she got. she was a Sagittarius. I know this because she reminded me, and everyone else she met, every free chance she got. She used her horoscope to explain her mood and behavior to people around the bar where i work. Maybe you know someone like this? It's a little strange at first, but you get used to it. She wore her horoscope sign around her neck like people wear crosses.
While i was at work everyday, she would either go over to other people's houses and get high, or invite them over to our place and get high. Later, she would sit outside on the front steps with a summer dress on with no panties. People came by and stopped and stared. Long stares. Embarrassing stares. It got to the point where every shoe-shine boy and Haitian worker that ever lived on the north coast would started walking back and forth in front of our condo complex at all hours of the day and night just to try and get a glimpse of her burning red bush. Even donkeys and farm animals from a field across the road started parading in front of our condo complex.
I loved her, but she was a compulsive pot smoker and sex fanatic. She lived to get high everyday and have sex. Crazy sex. But she was very intelligent in that self-medicating type way that sometimes leads people to believe that she was just another stupid, unemployed, unemployable, lazy, mooching, charlatan, no good-for-nothing pot-head. Nothing further could be from the truth. She was highly intelligent, she simply was addicted to getting high and having sex at all hours of the day and night. Her appetite was insatiable. She carried around a little pocket vibrator with her everywhere she went. She wasn't shy about pulling it out in public--especially at the bar where i work-- and showing it to people. It horrified some people, but fascinated others. Shoe-shine boys always yanked it out of her hand and tried to smell it. I guess its one of those crazy male instinct. I got into a lot of physical confrontations because of her outrageous behavior in public and we fought and broke-up numerous times throughout the years.
But listen...this is the thing i want to convey....despite the fact that we fought all the time, and broke up all the time, we always made up. Yes, she was incurable. Yes, she was certifiably mad. Yes, she was loud, obnoxious, insulting, and self-medicating. But i loved her. Of course, she was incapable of work. She was incapable of holding down a job. God knows i tried. I tried everything to get her on the right track, to get her a job. I paid for music lessons--but she had a relationship with her instructor. I paid for dance lessons; but she had an affair with her dance professor; I paid for Spanish classes; but she killed his marriage by having an affair with him as well. In the end, i just stopped sending her anywhere where she was around any oxygen breathing human beings. I even stopped sending her to the store for milk because, well, she had an affair with the Watchie-man at the supermarket which i later caught. I was at my wits end about what to do with her.
In the end, i gave up. I threw in the towel; i threw in the white flag. I surrendered. I knew i couldn't change her. Let's face it...some people cannot change. Some people you just can't reach...even with a bullhorn. There really was nothing i could do. So, I did the only rational thing left...I married her. After our wedding, we moved to a safe location far outside of Cabarete where no people live. The only thing nearby is a farm with some livestock that live across the street. That was 2 years ago now, and so far, things have worked out. She has stopped self-medicating herself everyday with pot. I think in the end, if there is enough love and respect, two people can find a middle ground, a balance point, and make it work out. The only ingredient you need to make a relationship work out is respect, understanding, forgiveness, and love...a lot of love.
PS. if i had to do it all over again, i would, but i would avoid redheads if i were you.
Love Frank
I've been in your shoes. No, really, I know exactly where you are coming from when it comes to living with an unemployed, unemployable, pot smoking, rum drinking, beer chugging, charlatan, loser. I attract them like a magnet.
I have no advice to give you per say, but even if i did, i wouldn't give it to you, because, well, unfortunately, some things in this world we just have to find the answers on our own, and no advice--good or bad--is going to make a dam bit of difference. However, having said that, I want to tell you a little about my situation, in the hope that, one day, you may see similarities to your own situation and find some answers.
My name is Frank, i'm half Dominican/half American. I'm educated in both countries. Here in Cabarete, I used to live with a wild redhead. She was down right crazy. I mean like--certified, paper-carrying type crazy; she carried with her at all times a small, 8x10 vanilla folder crammed with her crazy papers inside. She carried them around with her just in case she ever got stopped by the police. Although, in retrospect, they were not needed in the least bit, because, just one look at her wild raging red hair was enough to give her craziness away to even Stevie Wonder. When my boss--Big Frank (no relation to me)--took one look at her, he saw trouble. big trouble. The financial and emotional type of trouble. He tried too warn me, but like anyone else in my situation, i didn't listen. In fact, i didn't even hear him. Yes, i saw his lips move, but he might as well have been talking to me about how to bake a cake.
A little about the redhead's background: I met this redhead at the bar where i work in Cabarete. She was absurd, frightening, bizarre, and beautiful all at the same time. She came into my workplace everyday and took her top off and rested her boobs on the bar like a sack of potatoes. She wanted her free drink--we give free drinks away to topless girls at my workplace. she came in everyday like clockwork. I knew instantly when i saw her sitting topless at the bar that it was 5pm.
This wild redhead had a lot of freckles across her chest--redheads tend to have a lot of freckles for some reason, and some of them--but certainly not all--tend to smell funny as well. She smelt funny. No joke. I could never put my finger on the reason why, but it seems to be indicative to ingeniousness redheads from northern Europe. Anyway, you could make out the continent of Europe across her chest by connecting her freckles together; they were clearly marked with magic marker. She was from another galaxy.
This wild redhead was mooching off of me all the time. she paid no rent. she paid no utilities. she did no dishes or housework. When i was at work, she would sit around the house getting high. She smoked a lot of marijuana. great quantities of it. She didn't work, so she had a lot of free time to smoke pot and get high. She got high every free chance she got--which was all day. She was lazy. very lazy. Stupid lazy. But she loved reading her horoscope every free chance she got. she was a Sagittarius. I know this because she reminded me, and everyone else she met, every free chance she got. She used her horoscope to explain her mood and behavior to people around the bar where i work. Maybe you know someone like this? It's a little strange at first, but you get used to it. She wore her horoscope sign around her neck like people wear crosses.
While i was at work everyday, she would either go over to other people's houses and get high, or invite them over to our place and get high. Later, she would sit outside on the front steps with a summer dress on with no panties. People came by and stopped and stared. Long stares. Embarrassing stares. It got to the point where every shoe-shine boy and Haitian worker that ever lived on the north coast would started walking back and forth in front of our condo complex at all hours of the day and night just to try and get a glimpse of her burning red bush. Even donkeys and farm animals from a field across the road started parading in front of our condo complex.
I loved her, but she was a compulsive pot smoker and sex fanatic. She lived to get high everyday and have sex. Crazy sex. But she was very intelligent in that self-medicating type way that sometimes leads people to believe that she was just another stupid, unemployed, unemployable, lazy, mooching, charlatan, no good-for-nothing pot-head. Nothing further could be from the truth. She was highly intelligent, she simply was addicted to getting high and having sex at all hours of the day and night. Her appetite was insatiable. She carried around a little pocket vibrator with her everywhere she went. She wasn't shy about pulling it out in public--especially at the bar where i work-- and showing it to people. It horrified some people, but fascinated others. Shoe-shine boys always yanked it out of her hand and tried to smell it. I guess its one of those crazy male instinct. I got into a lot of physical confrontations because of her outrageous behavior in public and we fought and broke-up numerous times throughout the years.
But listen...this is the thing i want to convey....despite the fact that we fought all the time, and broke up all the time, we always made up. Yes, she was incurable. Yes, she was certifiably mad. Yes, she was loud, obnoxious, insulting, and self-medicating. But i loved her. Of course, she was incapable of work. She was incapable of holding down a job. God knows i tried. I tried everything to get her on the right track, to get her a job. I paid for music lessons--but she had a relationship with her instructor. I paid for dance lessons; but she had an affair with her dance professor; I paid for Spanish classes; but she killed his marriage by having an affair with him as well. In the end, i just stopped sending her anywhere where she was around any oxygen breathing human beings. I even stopped sending her to the store for milk because, well, she had an affair with the Watchie-man at the supermarket which i later caught. I was at my wits end about what to do with her.
In the end, i gave up. I threw in the towel; i threw in the white flag. I surrendered. I knew i couldn't change her. Let's face it...some people cannot change. Some people you just can't reach...even with a bullhorn. There really was nothing i could do. So, I did the only rational thing left...I married her. After our wedding, we moved to a safe location far outside of Cabarete where no people live. The only thing nearby is a farm with some livestock that live across the street. That was 2 years ago now, and so far, things have worked out. She has stopped self-medicating herself everyday with pot. I think in the end, if there is enough love and respect, two people can find a middle ground, a balance point, and make it work out. The only ingredient you need to make a relationship work out is respect, understanding, forgiveness, and love...a lot of love.
PS. if i had to do it all over again, i would, but i would avoid redheads if i were you.
Love Frank
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