I'm Not Good For You

I met my husband at a poker game.

My friends had warned me.

They said that it was a rough crowd and I probably shouldn’t go and I laughed.
They warned me that the guys there were not my type and I’d be the only girl, and I laughed.

I remember walking down the path of the duplex and opening the side door immediately being hit with the smell of bachelor life, of clothes that are left in the washing machine for too long and forgotten half-full beer cans.

I remember making my way to the tiny kitchen that would become our kitchen, and sitting down at the kitchen table that would become our kitchen table, and immediately noticing my future husband.

He was the guy with the baseball hat pulled down almost completely over his eyes, completely focused on his beer bottle and cards, studying them like he was in Vegas as a tournament.

He hardly noticed me.

I noticed him and when he did make eye contact with me I tried to make him laugh, and he sort of did, and that was it.

I wanted to make him happy.

A few days later we texted. We went to a movie. We had sex and it was the best sex I had ever had and I thought that definitely meant something about my life. 

A few days later he asked me to go with him to a wedding.

A few days later he went to the rehearsal dinner for that wedding, and at 9 pm I got texts from him that told me he had met a red head and red heads were his weakness and I’d better show up at the rehearsal dinner so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

A few minutes later he texted me that the redhead was the bride’s mother.

A few minutes later he said he was playing piano at the rehearsal dinner but the room had started to spin.

A few minutes later he said he was heading home and was not in good shape.

A few minutes later I was at his house, and he was on his couch, and I was making sure he was lying on his side so he wouldn’t choke if he threw up.

A few minutes later I was sitting next to him, asking him if I could do anything, anything at all, to make him feel better.

A few minutes later he was warning me. Through blurred eyes and slurred words he said “you should leave me now. I’m not good for you. I am trouble. This won’t end well for you.”

I stayed. I sat next to him for the rest of the night, making sure he was breathing, and that he didn’t choke in his sleep.