Forward | The Real Jeannine Pr

Forward

The Real Jeannine Price

Love, you say? Do not be so gullible as to believe in it. It does not exist except in novels and on the silver screen. It is fool’s gold - and an investment not worth the risk. Yet, despite my skepticism, I’m about to tell you one of the greatest love stories ever told. While my objective mind rejects the notion of love, my subjective heart will probably forever argue back. My heart will never again win nor will it ever again influence my mind.

Let’s think about it. According to current statistical data in the United States, one in two marriages ends in divorce. Similarly, 70% of all romantic partnerships fail before a couple even gets to the altar.

Assuming your relationship has to survive Phase I, the non-marital romantic partnership, and you enter into Phase II, marital commitment, your relationship has a 15% chance of survival. Go buy a lottery ticket. Chances are you’ll feel a lot less devastated after losing a dollar.

Now for all you super-observant readers, I said I will never again believe in love. I didn’t say I never did. Hell, I bought in to it lock-stock-and-barrel. I suppose I had to live and learn. And now, after surviving just over half a century traversing life coupled with surviving the real Jeannine Price, I’ve learned the true meaning behind that so well-known, age-old adage: ‘With Age Comes Wisdom.’

When you get to that point in your life when age and lifes’ experiences meet, it’s an Ah-Haaaa moment you’ll never forget. And, by the way, wisdom has zero to do with how many diplomas hang on your office wall; has nothing to do with your ability to answer every Double Jeopardy question on the board; and is completely unrelated to the title in front of your name or the professional suffix behind it.

Wisdom is that moment in life when you no longer wear filtered glasses. You finally recognize yourself for who you are and see all the bullshit in the world without explaining how that pile of shit deposited by the biggest bull on the pasture is something other than one, big pile of bullshit.

It’s that point when you look at a duck and realize suddenly, “Hey. That’s a fuckin’ duck!” There’s no candy-coating it. There’s no fluff. It’s just a fuckin’ duck. Don’t get me wrong - it isn’t an epiphany, either. It takes time to come full circle.

But - there was definitely that time when I believed in love - no bullshit. Oh man, did I. For the first time in my life I loved someone with all my heart and soul. I loved someone, for the first time ever, without condition. Someone, by the way, who needs more conditions overlooked than any person I’ve ever known. I, for the first time in my life, affectioned for someone without reservation. Unfortunately for me, that person was Jeannine. She might very well say the same about me - which might be why our love was so fervently reciprocated, even if in the most toxic of ways.

My love and affection for Jeannine was unbridled and constant. It consumed me and overflowed without effort. I lived every day wanting to be a better man for her - so I could somehow provide a happiness for her I believed she deserved. I had never been able to do that before.

What the actual fuck was I thinking?

I may not know, even today, exactly what I was thinking, but I precisely knew what I felt. I just wish now my age and wisdom had crossed paths right about the time I first met Jeannine.

Maybe it was Karma that got my ass - I don’t exactly know - because others, one in particular long before Jeannine, offered to me an unconditional love that rivaled any great love story. I simply didn’t reciprocate love for her the same way. I don’t even know if I knew how to back then. She deserved so much better and I hope she finds better. I will always love her and use how she loved me as a source of inspiration - even if that source has dried up in me.

Either way, the fallout from Jeannine was devastating - and not just to me. The sad reality is that it didn’t have to end the way it did. It’s fair to say that no relationship should ever end the way mine and Jeannine’s did. It has irrevocably changed me as a man. It changed the fabric of me. I know they say time heals all wounds - but unless you’ve experienced the real Jeannine Price, you have not the authority to even begin to understand.

As you progress through the pages of my memoir, I trust I will hear you scream out to me. Please do. I want to hear you scream, “What were you thinking?!” I’m pretty sure you’re going to scream out to me many times.

When you learn Jeannine masqueraded as the innocent victim to two ruthlessly-evil and antagonistic husbands only to learn later she was a violent drunk and addict (and quite arguably the ruthlessly-evil and antagonistic one herself), and I chose to stay, you’re going to scream. Scream. I will hear you.

When you read her written affidavits for protective orders against me compared to the real facts, I hope you lose your shit on me. When you read her written affidavits to bring criminal charges against me compared to real facts, I hope you lose your shit on me again.

When you learn of the many criminal prosecutions brought against her by the Commonwealth of Virginia, scream at me again. Ask me why. Ask me why I endeavored to stand by her regardless of her drunk violence.

When you learn she used my two German Shepherds as pawns in her efforts to get out of the five domestic violence charges brought against her, please scream, if even to yourself, “What kind of a person does something like that?!”

When you learn she failed to disclose to me she has a viral sexually transmittable disease and I accepted her without reservation, scream at me from the top of your lungs. Ask me, please, “What the fuck was wrong with you!?”

When you learn that her sociopath-in-training daughter falsely suggested me to be a pedophile, please yell. Please scream at me. Please reach through the pages, grab me by the collar and shake me, especially when you learn that I endeavored to work with Jeannine through her daughters’ problems.

When you learn Jeannine sought against me three protective orders in 72 hours just five days, not coincidentally, before I came home to find her in bed with one of her many fuck buddies, and I determined to work with her through it all … by all means, rage on me for being one of the dumbest men ever.

Yep. I was a dumbass. I’m not proud of my decisions to stay through it - but, then again, maybe I am in some strange way I hope you’ll soon come to understand.

All I ask is you don’t judge me for voluntarily choosing to stay. Remember, I was subjectively influenced by my heart and not thinking with an objective mind. I had on those filtered glasses - and couldn’t see the bullshit for what it was. Please remember that you, too, may have made similarly poor relationship decisions. If you haven’t, then use my experience with Jeannine as a roadmap to avoid a self-chosen and life-long let down.

In time the Real Jeannine Price will be a long forgotten nightmare - but I’ll not soon forget the memory of it all.

To Chapter 1