Boyz to Men make you crazy.

Men make you crazy.  It doesn't matter what age they are at.  I think God gives them a gene that is strictly for driving the women in their lives crazy.  Either by being total idiots or by being self absorbed.  And I am surrounded with this gene.  Starting with my sons.  They aren't quite men yet, but they still have this horrid gene.  My older son is totally self absorbed.  At 14 I guess that's pretty normal except that I hate it.  If things aren't done in a way to service him I get the eye roll or the lip smacking or a hearty "GAAAHHHH, I hate it here."  Oh good, you hate it here.  In the place where I am busting my ass to try and make things as normal as possible.  In the place where I am overdrawn all the time trying to keep things a float.  In the place where you get to hang out with your friends, play X-box, eat a home made meal and relax.  So glad you don't appreciate any of these things you little shit.   I love this child more than life itself, but damn I just wish I could figure out a way to zap that gene from his body.  My younger child is not quite at the self absorbed stage, but I have never seen a child that is so smart for all of his 12 years on this planet.  I am so glad that he knows more than me and argues with everything I say!  What kind of day would I have if he didn't argue and his brother didn't roll his eyes at me.  When it all happens at the same time I start trying to look for my happy place.  This is what I see- the Red Room of Pain.  haha!  I would just like to kick someones ass at this point and everything I need to do it is in that room!  Then you have the man that donated not only the sperm so that I could have these two boys (who I really do love more than life), but also the gene.  This man was doubled up on this gene because he is both an idiot and self absorbed.  And whatever may come in between those two words.  He is constantly trying to point out my flaws, which I find funny since we are at this stage in our relationship due to his indiscretions.  Not that we wouldn't have eventually gotten here.  He was a controlling, abusive and possessive man with Peter Pan Syndrome.  He hate growing old (yes, don't we all) and refused to accept it. He would enter himself into football tournaments (at the age of 35) and end up hurting himself so badly he would miss work and I would be left trying to take care of him and figure out how to pay the bills w/o losing my mind.  His jealous rants would make absolutely no sense at all.  When MySpace was still a big deal, I had Kidd Kraddick (RIP Kidd) as a friend so I could follow what he talked about, especially with his Kidd's Kids program.  This retarded asshole that I had married (which may mean I am somewhat retarded as well for doing so) thought that meant I knew KK and we were having an affair.  What a fucking moron.  I dealt with this type of stuff for the entire 15 years we were together.  If we saw a guy I may have dated (or he thought I dated-which was everyone-apparently I really got around), he would make snide remarks and not speak to me for several days.  The silence was golden, the emotional toll it took on me was black.  I thank God everyday that I am done with this man.  He continues to try and make my life hell and it would be really easy to fall back into that person that allowed him to make me feel 2" tall, but thankfully I remember that I am worth far more than rubies and am able to go on. Then I have Fish.  That's the nickname given to my boyfriend.  He is great!  Smart, sensitive, funny, cute and has a heart that is so kind.  I am so lucky to have him.  Sadly, he has the gene, too.  It's not near as prominent as it is in other men.  Thank God for that.  But it still lurks around.  This is my example.  I love kissing this man.  I could make out with him all day long.  We have made out like two high school students on many occasions.  One of my favorite things is when he doesn't shave and his whiskers rub on me when we are making out.  It turns me on and I am even getting a little hot thinking about it right now.  He and I have already been sexually active, which has been great.  I have enjoyed every minute of our intimacy.  Here is where the gene kicks in though.  He is getting comfortable in only making out when it may lead to sex.  We haven't had a hard core, make out, tongue twisting kiss since we got it on this last weekend.  Yesterday I was thinking about how badly I wanted a kiss so I went in for it (and listen, I am very modest and insecure so that's a big deal for me to do) and when I do he says "oh, I should kiss you b/c I haven't brushed my teeth today or taken a shower."  That would be ok if it was 9a.m. or something and he just hadn't gotten going for the day, but it was 4:45 in the afternoon.  Then he says, "I haven't been able to drink as much and that's really messing with me and I find myself being really lazy."  WTF does that mean?  So if  I would have come with a 6 pack would he have run upstairs and showered and brushed his teeth?  He gets more exciting about making out with a Bud Light can than me?  Honestly it hurt my feelings b/c why wouldn't he want to at least brush his teeth if he knows I am coming around?  It makes me feel like he has no desire to kiss me unless he knows it will get him somewhere.  And the fact that he gets so excited about the thought of drinking worries me, too.  I just don't understand the thought process.  Why is this so important to him?  It obviously is more important than me if he would wash up and get ready to reunite with his alcohol but not do the same for me.  My mom has always said not to make yourself too available to a man.  Maybe that's what I am doing is making myself too available to him and this is where it's leading.  So maybe my plan should be is to put in a leave of absence with him until he decides I am important.  I don't know.  All I know is that I have got to find a way to ZAP this gene's existence from all men. I will start test trials to see how a stapler, kleenex and tape works first since that is what is nearest to me at this point as it is sitting on my desk.  Who is with me?