Big Little Bro Gets A Life And A Wife: Part I

Big Little Bro got married a few weeks ago.

And quite the wedding it was.

(On a side note, a huge sigh of relief is in order for me.  The onus no longer rests solely on Hubby and I as the only married children available in both of our respective families to produce respectable and legitimate grandchildren for our clamoring, impatient, and not-so-subtle mothers.)

So, who's the Lucky Woman, you ask?

Ahhhhh, not so fast.

First things first.

Big Little Bro moved down to Virginia last year around September to stay with us for a while.  He was having some minor money issues and some major female issues, and having just a regular old shitty time of things back home.  His life got sticky enough that I started to worry about him, so I offered to let him stay with us for a few months if he needed to clear the air, find a fresh start, and just get back on his feet in general.  I was a-flitter with excitement when he took me up on that offer.

He eventually moved down to stay with us, and ended up finding his fresh start.

I eventually almost lost my mind because of him, and experienced in small part what it must be like to the mother of an illogical, carefree, late-twenties man-child living at home with you.

Big Little Bro is crazy intelligent.  However, he somehow managed to get overlooked almost entirely by the Department of Common Sense when he was born.  He is a dreamer, not a realist.  With his double-major degree in Biology and Genetic Research, he could probably save the world someday... if he doesn't forget to turn the gas to the stove burner off in the morning and blow himself up first.  He's totally 'that guy' who would starve to death because he locked himself into the pantry.

Anyways.

He moved in and all was well.  It was nice having him around again; he and I are extremely close but neither one of us is much of a phone conversationalist, so it was great to be able to talk to him in person again.  I was happy to be able to help him with his fresh start and proud of him for being so gung-ho about getting his life back on track.

He got a job selling insurance.  It wasn't what he wanted to do, but it paid really well and he had bills up the wazoo to pay.  Not that it was a difficult job for him, since Big Little Bro could sell a ketchup popsicle to a lady with white kid gloves on, but I was impressed that he sucked it up and took the crappy well-paying job anyway.

He bought a car (his couldn't make the trip down to Virginia so he sold it).  Bro found a steal on a little VW Jetta with really low mileage on Craigslist.  It supposedly needed major engine work, but when Sean's crafty sixth sense about vehicles told him that it'd be a cheap fix, they bought it.  After a $30 part and a couple hours of Sean helping Bro under the hood, the car was running like a champ.

All was well.

Then one day, the honeymoon was over.

In a fit of unpleasant realization, it struck me one evening that Big Little Bro was a Slob.

The gung-ho attitude had been replaced by a lacks-a-daisical mentality of "I'll get to it when I get to it."  It was as though.... it was like he was tired of being all adult-like and shit.  He had found a place where he felt safe, where he didn't have to worry about all that emotional and financial junk that had happened back home.  Rent due?  What rent?  Bills due?  What bills?  Girlfriend troubles?  What girlfriend??

It was as though he reverted back to being 13 years old and living with Mom & Dad again; he mentally and emotionally plopped down on my comfortable couch and made himself right at home as our grown-ass brother-son.  His procrastination of even the simplest of ordinary tasks was unending; and his perpetual disregard for behaving as a functioning, self-sustaining member of our household left my orderly, organized soul reeling in horror on a daily basis.

"Hey Bro, could you please not leave your plate of unfinished omelet on the coffee table in the living room?"  "Oh, did I do that? I'm sorry!" (proceeds to finish watching movie before putting dirty plate on the counter) Not rinsed and in the the sink, or in the dishwasher; on the counter, y'all. *grits teeth*  Crumpled napkin and all.

"Hey Bro, don't leave food in the sink, man; it's gross and it attracts flies and shit." (for the nth time in three weeks)  "Oh.  Okay.  Sorry."  The next afternoon, I go to the kitchen sink to wash my hands after getting home from work, only to discover the remains of a bowl of raisin bran in it, with the dumped-out milk dried onto the bottom of the sink.  And then a fruit fly came up and flitted inquiringly into the bowl.  And then I went completely ape-shit.

"Hey Bro, here's your mail.  I thought you might want it, this letter looks important." (points to a fat envelope and hands it to him)  "Oh, okay, thanks."  I find the letter under the couch three weeks later.  It's from one of his credit cards, offering to settle for half of what he owes on the card.  Kind of a big deal, no?

"Hey, Missy, could you help me set up a budget?"  My eyes light up in surprise and delight. I love spreadsheets.  "Sure!" I say.  We spend a whole afternoon making him an account on Mint.com (by the way, best website EVER.  Simple budgeting for both dummies and smarties at its finest!).  When I discovered that he'd been spending upwards of $150 a month on eating out while on the road for his job, I suggested he pack lunches to save money.  That lasted all of about a week.  So did the rest of the budget. *sigh*

"Hey guys, I think I'm going to sell this Jetta, I want something a little more comfortable with all the driving I do for work." So he sold the perfectly good Jetta to a guy I work with on a Saturday, dragged Sean all over kingdom come on Saturday and Sunday to look at replacement cars he'd found on Craigslist, found one, and Sean told him, "I'd steer clear.  It looks okay... but I can only see so much at a glance, and these Volvos are expensive to fix and it has high miles."  He ignored Sean and bought it on Tuesday.  It was "such an awesome car, though!  And sooooo comfortable!"  Wednesday it was discovered to have a coolant leak, and, "Oh, no! I have a business trip to Tennessee tomorrow!  Sean, can you fix it in time?"

Sean couldn't say no because he's such a nice guy, so he climbed through his asshole to fix Bro's car - the one he told him not to buy - by Thursday.  Six weeks later, the awesome Volvo blew a head gasket and then proceeded to sit in front of our house for the next 3 months before Bro got around to selling it because he didn't have the money to fix it.  In the meantime, he drove our extra car - a hideously awesome beast of a 1991 VW Golf hatchback - and pooh-poohed it the entire 3 months.  When I finally got tired of listening to him make fun of driving the Golf, I confronted him.  It was "embarrassing" to be seen selling insurance in it, he said... I mean, who could take a professional salesman seriously in that car??  I told him, "Are you fucking kidding me?  That car makes you totally relatable to the average American.  And if you hate it that much, then sell the useless piece of shit that you have currently sitting in front of my house and get your own GD car; but don't you dare talk shit about my Golf that I'm letting you borrow, you ungrate!"  Then he felt bad.  For about two days.

Just a few examples.  I could go on and on.

I have realized that - although I still fully believe he doesn't do it on purpose, but rather out of a total lack of awareness for how his actions affect others - Big Little Bro is a User as well as a Slob.  He uses people.  He's oh-so funny and charming and full of life and charisma; and in his mind, people should want to help him out because, well, because he's awesome and he's their friend so why wouldn't they??  You do this for me, and I'll be your bestest buddy.  Until you need to rely on me for something.  Then, tragically, I'll be super busy helping this other person out and probably won't be able to help you, or even have time to swing by and say hello to you.  Sorry.  Raincheck?


He's always genuinely sorry if you let him know that he stepped on your toes, but the next day he seems to have completely forgotten the previous day's conversation.  He's just too busy making big plans for his life, and with his dreams and ambitions, to worry about mundane details like courtesy towards other people's feelings and property.  The Golden Rule seems to be completely lost on him.


I can't believe we came from the same mother sometimes.  I mean, at least when I step on other people's toes it's usually intentional.  Call me an asshole, but at least I'm a self-aware asshole.


We felt so used by him that we were beyond relieved to be rid of him when he moved out.  The best part is, he probably thinks that we're a bunch of uptight, buttholes-puckered killjoys who worry too much about paying bills on time and leaving food in the sink and boring shit like that.

Yeah, I'm not bitter or anything.

Anyways, Big Little Bro lived with us for a good 8 months, during which time he managed to squeeze a few lovely ladies into his busy schedule, somewhere between Being Super Awesome, Taking Two Showers A Day, and Forgetting To Pay My Student Loan Before My Two Week-Long Business Trip.

I'm finally totally mostly somewhat over all of the use and abuse that our hospitality suffered during those months, partly because he's my brother and I love him even if he is a total fucktard sometimes.

But also partly because one of those aforementioned lovely ladies is probably the only reason he's not still living with us and using up all our hot water.... so I guess it all sort of had to happen for a reason.

Stay tuned for Part II. ♦