POISONED HEART: I Married Dee Dee Ramone (The Ramone Years) by Vera Ramone King

Author:Vera Ramone King [Ramone King, Vera]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-08-03T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER

TEN

My Main Man

After having lived with Dee Dee for so many years, it became apparent that maturing with age was not on his agenda. Near the time of our divorce I was approaching thirty-eight years old, almost forty, and I realized that I needed someone with whom I could share the responsibilities as well as the joys in life. Dee Dee never wanted to grow up. Even when he was forty, he was still behaving like an irresponsible teenager. His temper tantrums were legendary. Nothing was ever his fault, and to be forty years old and blaming your problems on your childhood was getting real old. Knowing both his parents well, I realized that Dee Dee's upbringing wasn't any worse than the average person's; his childhood was a scapegoat, an excuse for refusing to grow up and into a mature and responsible man. Basically, Dee Dee was a man-child, a perpetual Peter Pan, and his way of dealing with life's problems was not dealing with them at all. Instead, his escape during tough times was taking drugs—self-medication was his answer to everything.

Aging is a natural part of life and not a choice that we are given. After all, who wouldn't want to stay young forever? But this is not reality for me, Dee Dee, or anyone else. Life is full of peaks and valleys, highs and lows, the good, the bad, the ugly, and everything in between. It is a journey full of experiences, and we are here to learn from them. That's where the old saying comes from: "wisdom comes with age." Wouldn't it be wonderful to know everything at the age of twenty that we know at the age of eighty? But that's not how it goes. That would be too easy! We're supposed to struggle and figure things out and learn through our many experiences. This difference in perspective became one of several obstacles that undoubtedly led to my split with Dee Dee. Unfortunately, some people don't, or won't, grow up, and there are few things worse than being a childish old man, or woman for that matter.

A good example of Dee Dee's immaturity came about one weekend sometime before 1985, when Dee Dee and I had agreed to drive my mother and sister upstate to the several-hundred-acre compound that my family owned. The trip was three-plus hours one way, and we still had to pick them up in Queens. Of course, Dee Dee was late coming from rehearsal as usual, and he knew we had a long drive ahead of us. To my complete and utter disappointment he showed up not only late, but also stoned on dope, with a beer in his hand. Dee Dee was ready and raring to go—and I knew that meant trouble.

We had barely made it out of Queens—we were on the New York State Thruway heading upstate—when he announced he had to pee, "Now!" What was I supposed to do? There were no rest stops, but I managed to pull over to the side of the road.

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