Thursday, November 30, 2017

Chapter 19: What If You're Over My Sh*t?

Chris Stanley shared Eva Aiken’s post.
Friday at 10:22 PM * Dallas, TX

This is what women don't get, everything we do is for you! Everything! We make money. We do it for you. We move to make money.  We do it for you. But women ain't NEVER happy with that shit. NEVER. I feel Marc. Look where he is now. Look at the dough he's rolling in. He had to make sacrifices to get this shit. Why his wife still ain't happy?

TO: Rachel Isles
Good morning, Rachel.

TO: Marc Isles
Oh, so you’re having a good morning?
Do you remember our life before The Move? Because that’s what this section of my autobiography has been labeled. The Move. There are two phases in our life: Before Your Move to Seattle and The Move and guess which one I’m pissed off about?

Every morning, before TM (The Move), we didn't even use alarm clocks. We just let the hummingbirds that sing outside our bedroom windows awaken us. Remember that? I always kept the windows open at night in our room because isn't it so much better to be awakened by the singing of birds instead of the buzz of an alarm? Not that you would notice since each morning you were awakened by me on top of you. Can I get some credit for being sexually attentive? I don't like you carrying on with life like I'm not sexually considerate. How many of your friends get head before breakfast? Name them, right HERE and right NOW!

Anyway, you'd always give out a long stretch afterward and pull my body against yours and whisper a sleepy Good morning in my ear. We had good mornings, Marc. We had a good life. What happened to our life? What happened to you hopping in your shower while I made my way to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of Trader Joe's coffee? Do you see how intimately I know you? I know that you don't like Starbucks coffee and that you only walk around with the cup when you have morning business meetings, and you have to look fashionable. I know that you like our bodies pressed together while the birds sing outside our windows. I know that you like to walk up behind me and kiss my neck as you pour a cup of Trader Joe’s coffee.
So, my only question is this: what are your mornings like now?

TO: Rachel Isles
Rachel. I moved to Seattle because the engineer I need to help me develop my software is here as is his equipment. I had to come here.

I feel like you want me to work for someone. I think you'd be happy if I rolled out of bed, sat up on the side of it, dreading my day ahead. Because that's what I imagine when I think of pulling into the parking lot of another company that another man has created. You knew when you met what my plans were. I make operating systems. I make software. I'm an industrial engineer. I'm an entrepreneur. All that means is that my life isn't neat. It isn't orderly. It changes.

I don’t put in for vacation days. I own the company. There’s no such thing as a vacation. I don’t call in sick to work. I’ve got a team of men who require my presence. I don’t pass over an assignment. When I need something done, I get it done. I needed to come to Seattle.

This is not a permanent move. I keep telling you this. And this isn't just my company; it's our company. And I respect you as a teacher, but that's not going to put food on our table. Not in California. My father has been a science teacher for thirty years, and we could barely afford to eat some nights. And let's face it, baby, you and I have developed some expensive taste. I paid off the mortgage in our condo in San Fran, and I paid off the mortgage on our townhome in L.A. I paid for our cars and trucks. Those furs in your closet and Janie's matching luggage that you insisted our one year old needed. I pay for a private flight from San Fran to L.A. on the weekends because you can't imagine going through two hours of airport security for a one-and-a-half-hour flight. We fly to Toronto because that's where The Real Jerk is, and you can't imagine eating Jamaican food from anywhere else. We've got an expensive lifestyle Rachel.

Now, I'm not saying that I don't enjoy it because I do. I love it. I'm not satisfied with just making ends meet. I've lived that way my entire life. Your father's a psychiatrist; your mother's a prime real estate agent. You lived on a country club. I put us in that condo in San Fran because I know that's how you want to live. I've got us sitting on our own hill. It's not as high as your parents, but it's up there, baby.
I’m in Seattle because this is where I need to be.


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