My husband “T” and I have been married about two years
and are in our early thirties. We’ve known each other since
we were 19, but were just casual friends, mostly
because T was kind of a wild man and did a lot of
drinking. He cooked in a restaurant for a living, so
he had odd hours and he was always out late partying
with coworkers. I was in college and afterwards had a
9-to-5 job so our lifestyles just didn’t mesh.

In our late twenties, we started dating. He was then
more than a social drinker but not quite as much of a
partier as in years past. He also had gone to trade
school and embarked on a new career which he took
(takes) very seriously. In other words, he grew up and had been
waiting to ask me if I wanted to start dating until he
got his “ducks in a row,” as he says.

By the time we married, he was a social drinker who
occasionally (four or five times a year) would go overboard enough
that he should not be driving, but not throwing up,
blacking out or anything like that. I was cool with
this at that time.

I should mention now that my father is a recovering
alcoholic, sober since I was 12 but made my life
hellish for those 12 years and even after. I turned to
food as a coping mechanism early in life and have
always been overweight. T’s father is also a drinker.
He is not sober, but does not drink as much as he did
when T was growing up, when there were some bad times.

So with my dad being sober, T being a social drinker,
and me doing pretty well with taking care of myself at
the time we got engaged, I thought all was cool. I
felt good about where I was in life and with our
relationship. T is a great guy, caring, hilarious,
treats me pretty well. I could go on but in the
interest of cutting to the chase, just trust me on
that one.

Well, over the past two years, I have realized that I
am not cool with the social drinking and occasional
going overboard. I realized that I feel like I am
always waiting for the other shoe to drop — for him
to just start drinking like crazy as he did ten years
ago, despite the evidence. This has caused me a lot of
anxiety, and my weight has gone up again because I have
been doing quite poorly at taking care of myself.

T gets frustrated when I get nervous and anxious about
his drinking.He points out that he doesn’t drink
during the week, has a couple of beers on a Friday
night, is reliable, home on time, never calls in to
work, does not turn angry or mean when drinking (just
goofy), et cetera, and to his credit he has come a long
way. But he knows those times he goes overboard just
kill me.

Recently we went to dinner and he had a couple of
beers. No sweat; I have gotten better at keeping
things in perspective because it usually stops there.
When we came home, he cracked another one. I could
feel myself getting anxious. Then he went to the
kitchen to heat some leftovers, and long story short
(ha), he drank an entire beer in the three minutes it took
while heating them up and comes out with another full
one.

At this point, to my complete surprise, I just
snapped. I got up to go to bed and was sobbing in the
sink as I brushed my teeth. Something possessed me
that I just had to get out and clear my head, so I
drove around in my car for an hour, crying on and off.
At one point I even asked God for help (I’m not at
all religious, so that surprised me).

So the evidence is that T probably has 8-12 beers a
month, with the occasional going overboard. Hardly a
raging alcoholic. My rational side knows that.But he
knows my issues and how that cuts right into my
feelings of security and comfort and brings out such
fear in me. He says he does not have a drinking
problem; he does not need to drink. So if he knows how
much it bothers me, then why does he do it? I’ve asked
him that question directly and never gotten a good
answer, though I know it’s because he does not want to
be controlled. I can completely understand that — if I
were in his situation, I might feel the same way.

I know my problems are taking their toll on T, so
that’s one of the major reasons why I want to make
some changes, in addition to restoring my own mental
health.I’m taking an anxiety-management class at my
HMO right now, so I am taking some steps to help
myself and determine if my fears are justified (as the
instructor puts it, I live like he is already a raging
alcoholic and make myself feel those feelings when
that’s not the case now).

I am honestly okay when he has literally two beers.
But I feel like my life is going into the shitter when
he has more and there’s nothing I can do about it.I
can’t be certain, but it might be tough for people who
have not lived with alcoholism to understand that.
The feelings are very real.

I don’t even know if my current angst is justified. Am
I being unreasonable? But even if I am, shouldn’t T
want to help me get better, even if only because it
will ultimately benefit him? Maybe I am being
completely selfish, but it doesn’t feel that way.

I can honestly say that most other aspects of our
marriage are good. We have many, many genuinely happy
moments and overall my life is good. Good job, decent
house, great family/friends, a dog I worship. It’s
just that constant feeling I have of, “Don’t get too
happy, because it’s coming. It’s coming and you won’t
be able to do a thing about it.”

Leaving T is not an option.I don’t believe we are at
that point. However, I don’t know how to get my point
across that I am drawing a line in the sand here. Do I
even have a right to do that? And how does one give an
ultimatum like that, if you don’t want to leave? Don’t
laugh, but I keep thinking of Dr. Phil’s line, “You
teach people how to treat you.” How can I get across
to T that I’m fragile right now as I make changes and
I just can’t take the going overboard, without him
feeling like he’s being controlled?

Signed,
Nursing my own hangover (from anxiety)

Dear Nurse,

If you feel strongly enough that T’s drinking is not something you can live with, yes, you have the right to do that.You always have the right to deliver an ultimatum; what you don’t have is the right to expect that it’s going to go your way — that he’s going to choose to give up drinking, or to limit himself to two beers, because from his perspective, it is a little unreasonable and controlling.

Now, from your perspective, the way T drinks makes you anxious, because you couldn’t control your father’s drinking, and you see a certain inevitability in T’s as a result — as you say, you think the other shoe is going to drop.It’s not wrong to feel that way — but it is kind of unfair to enact that anxiety in your relationship when T shows no signs of alcoholism, and it’s also unfair because you didn’t have a problem with his consumption habits when you got married.Do you see what I mean?You feel what you feel, it’s not wrong to feel that way, and if you want him to stop drinking, well, that’s what you want and you have the right to ask him to do that, or to stop after two or whatever.But from where T sits, you changed the rules in the middle of the game, and not based on anything rational.

You have issues to work through regarding your father’s drinking, and it’s okay to ask T to remain sensitive to that — but, again, the way T drank didn’t appear to bother you before, and I think you have to understand that announcing that you now have a problem with it and would like him to change his behavior is not going to go over real well.

Keep going to the anxiety-management classes (or to a more traditional therapist), and keep the focus on your dad and what you had to deal with as a kid, because it’s getting played out in your marriage and you need to separate those two strands.In the meantime, speak frankly to T about what’s going on.Ask if he would mind temporarily curtailing or quitting drinking, just for a month or two, maybe, so that you can get quiet in your head and address your past.But for now, don’t give him an ultimatum, and don’t involve Dr. Phil; you have a valid issue with the drinking, but it’s yours, not T’s, and you have to start with your own actions and reactions before you ask him to change his.

I’ll start at the end.I got engaged to my (now) ex well over a year ago, and we had an engagement ring made using a diamond from a family pendant (my grandmother’s) and four smaller diamonds from his mother’s anniversary band.Lovely ring, and it certainly outlasted our engagement.Thing was, ex-boyo refuses to take back the ring.Not even just the four diamonds that belonged to his mother.And I tried explaining this to him, but he won’t back down.Claims his mother gave him the diamonds for our ring and so he can do what he wants with them — say, let me wear them as I rot in a particularly stinky level of hell.

So. I see now that trying to induce a bit of rationality into my ex’s psyche is not even an option.So…what about sending the four diamonds directly to ex’s mother, seeing as they were hers in the first place.I know where the ring was made; I could find out the cost of having those stones set back into the original anniversary band. Then send the diamonds to ex-boyo’s mom along with a certificate showing that I had paid for the anniversary ring to be completed again.

I think that “Mom” (for lack of pronouns) would be happy to get those stones back; she got them from her husband and all.But I know ex-boyo will not be pleased, if I go around his back to do this.

So here lies the dilemma:Do I send the stones directly to Mom with info on how to have her ring restored, and do everything I can to keep myself somewhat anonymous? I mean, I can actually see ex-boyo grabbing those stones and hurling them back in my face — and frankly, I don’t need that kinda shit.I’m doing this for his Mom, who was never anything by wonderfully nice to me — throughout everything.

So, any thoughts, Madame Sars?To piss off the few, or to piss off the many?

Robin

Dear Robin,

I would call or email Mom and explain your dilemma: your ex won’t take the stones back, but you just don’t feel right about keeping them, and while you don’t feel great about going over his head to her either, the stones did come from her, and you’d like to see if she has any input.See what she thinks; maybe she doesn’t really care what happens to the stones, but maybe she would like to have them back, and if she does, you can offer to return them loose or have them re-set, whichever she’d prefer.

Don’t just send a package with no return address, though; get in touch with Mom and get her opinion.

Dear Sars,

I have a problem I was hoping you could help me with. It’s more of an
ethical dilemma, I believe, than anything.

Friday night, I went to a really nice, somewhat swanky restaurant with a
live band. The entire night was perfect, dinner was great, and the band was
awesome.

My question is about the band. There was a tip jar at the front of the
stage, and I wondered aloud to my friend if we should tip the guys. My
friend said no, because we hadn’t asked for a special request. Still, I
thought we should have at least left them something, because they were
working as hard as the waiters and I really enjoyed them. What prevented us
from leaving them a tip, though, was the fact that we were seated at the
back of stage left, the tip jar was at the front of the stage, and there
were tables and people packed in so tightly that we would have been forced
to wind our way through saying, “Excuse me,” “I’m so sorry,” et cetera. It was
seriously the least accessible tip jar I had ever seen in the course of my
life. We were going to leave money in the small folder that the waiter
brought with the bill, but there was nothing to write down that it was for
the band, no paper, no comment card, no paper napkins…

Maybe I’m making excuses, but the person I was with was convincing me that
we didn’t have to leave one, and I feel like we should have. What is your
suggestion for the future? Because I am definitely going back there soon.

Thanks for your time.

Tipping My Hand

Dear Hand,

I think you should have left a tip.Yeah, it’s a pain to get up to the front, but the fact that they left the tip jar out suggests that they’d like people who enjoyed the show to make the extra effort.Next time, wind your way up there with a finsky and tip them.

Dear Sars,

I was visiting with some family friends the other day — mostly people
around 70 or so — and the topic turned to “modern English usage
that really grates on old ears.” One lady complained that she is always
hearing “young people” use the phrase “two times” instead of the word
“twice,” and that it drives her batty.She’s even taken to correcting them.

My own intuition tells me that “two times” and “twice” are precisely
equivalent, with no particular reason to prefer one over the other.Was
there a time when one was considered wrong?I generally use
“twice,” so I am safe from grammatical attacks from this otherwise
sweet older lady.(Actually, I’ve been known to use “thrice” on rare
occasion, because although no one uses it, everyone understands it.)

So — is “two times” a bad phrase?Will “twice” suffer the same fate
as “thrice”?Or is my dear family friend finally losing it?

Double Trouble

Dear Dub,

I don’t see the problem.”Twice” means “on two occasions” or “two times,” although Webster’s implies that the “two times” has a mathematical connotation (i.e. “twice three is six”), but that strikes me as somewhat archaic.

I don’t think “two times” for “twice” is wrong; I don’t think “twice” is even preferred.I think it’s just one of those locutions that happens to bug your family friend.

Hey Sars,

Where do you get the “subjects” for your Ghost Monologues? I’ve been truly enjoying those as you write them and I was just wondering what you based that on.

I’m interested not only because they’re great stories, but I’ve had something of an experience myself, and I’d like some “research” advice from you. It seems I have a haunted house in my family.

My father-in-law lives in a house that was built in the mid-1800s (we think). The house started out life as a tavern and brothel, in Maine of all places. Just based on that, the place has always had a creepy feel to it. And in case you’re wondering, yes, when we’re there stuff goes bump in the night LOTS! I won’t make this any longer with further details of the “bumps” because I could go on for pages.

Here comes the but…in the early 1990s, a crime allegedly took place in the home before my father-in-law bought it. Apparently, the residents of the home my father-in-law now lives in had a son who had some problems. He was obsessed with the next door neighbor’s daughter. When the young man’s parents went on vacation, he went over to the neighbors’ with a shotgun and kidnapped the daughter and then proceeded to tie her up in the basement of the home.

By the time he’d finished with that, the girl’s parents had called the police and multiple squad cars were arriving. Realizing his goose was cooked, the young man ran up to the attic and shot himself.

I said “allegedly” because I can’t seem to pick up the thread of the story anywhere. I only believe the story because I know that prior to my father-in-law purchasing the place, it sat on the market for a long time, and the story was related to my in-laws by a local police officer who stopped by my father-in-law’s store…of course we’ve not seen or heard from said police officer since.

I live in Virginia and the place in question is in Maine, which makes going to the local library to dig around on the story a bit difficult. I’ve tried accessing the local paper up there, but their online resources are sketchy at best. So, any suggestions on how I can get at public records through the twisted web of the net?

The story may well be the overactive imagination of an old Mainer who wanted to scare the new guy in town, but I’d love to know if the story is true.

Sign me,
Haunted

Dear Haunted,

You can read up a bit on the Ghost Monologues on the second page of the TN FAQ. It’s hard to explain what I base them on; some of them come from people I know, or knew, and some of them come from me just wondering what it’s like out there on the other side. It’s a bigger story, now, and I’ll have to go back and weed out/rewrite a lot of them, but stay tuned. It is in fact going somewhere.

As for your own haunted mansion, well, lucky you — not only do I dig the supernatural, but I also used to work as a records clerk, so I do have a few suggestions.

Start by Googling various word combinations based on the facts you do know, search strings like “[town name] murder captive shotgun attic.” If you have a name, search that too — and search it on the Social Security Death Index (here is one way to access it, and it’s free). It doesn’t give you a ton of information besides birth county, but it’s something.

But you say you haven’t gotten terribly far on the internet, so the next step is to get on the phone and track down the historical society, if the town has one (and it will — maybe it’s one old lady sitting in the police station eating macaroni salad, but she knows some shit, and she’s got friends). If anyone questions your credentials, tell them you’re writing a book — but they won’t. The one thing I learned in my clerking days is that, if you sound like you have a right to the information, people will just give it up. I think I was asked for proof that I worked for the alumnae office one time in three years.

So, get on with directory assistance in the 207 and see if they have a listing for the historical society in the town; if that doesn’t work, ask for the library. If that doesn’t work, make a list of four neighboring towns and start calling the libraries there. A lot of librarians will just up and find the stuff and fax it if they don’t have a lot of other work to do that day, particularly if 1) they think they can get into your “book,” 2) you ask nicely, and 3) it’s scandalous, which this is. No joy? Call the Portland Public Library. Call Bangor. Call the University of Maine libraries. If this thing really happened, one of the papers wrote it up and one of the bigger towns in the state will have a record of it.

If all of that fails, take a week off, physically go up there, and start asking around. Ask at the gas station, at the grocery, at the corner store where people buy their lottery tickets; find the place where the old men gather, pretend to get a blister, sit down, and shoot the breeze with them. In my experience (…don’t ask), it’s a little harder to get Mainers going than, say, Jerseyans, but you’d be amazed at how much information will come to you when you politely, but semi-loudly, ask a bartender where you can find such-and-so. It doesn’t even have to be a real thing; ask where the old Bunting farm is. Make sure the other patrons can hear you. “Ain’t no Buntings up here. You sure that’s the name?” “Well…it could have been Banning. See, I’m writing this book…” I don’t know why this works, but I’ve done it everywhere from Perth Amboy to Las Vegas, and if you’re looking for a story, people will give you one. Might not be the one you were looking for, but you’ll get a story.

Hell, just give me a hundred bucks for photocopying and phone bills and I’ll do it; I’m wicked snoopy and I was damn good at that job. Email me.

[10/17/03]

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