Batista Unleashed (21 page)

Physically, we never had a problem. I know that for a lot of couples, there comes a time when they stop having sex, stop making love, or just do it very infrequently. It was never like that for us. We were always very sexual, very physical. The problems were communication and trust.

I know a lot of guys who had problems with drugs or problems with drinking. I’ve grown up with that my whole life. I think when you have a job where you’re always traveling, moving around from place to place, constantly on the go without an anchor, maybe there’s more stress for you. Maybe people, or at least some people, are more likely to have problems with drugs or whatever because of that stress.

I always thought I was lucky because I didn’t have those sorts of problems. It took a while for me to realize that I had a similar problem with women.

I always tell people that I have absolutely no game with women. I don’t know how to talk to them; I don’t know how to pick one up.

My whole life before wrestling, and even up until WWE, I was shy around women. I’d only been in a few long-term relationships and didn’t do a lot of dating at all before or between them. Then suddenly I was in a situation where women were throwing themselves at me. When I got on the road, I just wasn’t prepared for it. I just had no idea how to handle it. It got pretty old real fast, pretty generic, not what I wanted. In that way, I got older and matured, but the damage as far as my marriage was concerned had already been done.

Angie said, Tell me and I’ll forgive you. For a time, I didn’t have anything to confess, and didn’t. But then when I did confess to what I had done, she wouldn’t forgive me. Just the opposite—she threw it in my face time and again, and never let me live it down.

A RICH GUY’S WIFE

The higher I got in the company, the worse she got. She started drinking, which didn’t really help.

In 2006, I bought my first house down in Florida. I had gotten custody of my daughters—I’ll tell you about that later—and had my mom come back east to live with us so she could help with the girls.

My mother didn’t exactly know what she was getting into, I think. She was planning to come out for a vacation and I told her we were going to move to Florida. She was a little surprised, but she had a very good friend down there and thought it would be a nice place to visit. So she came and as soon as she was there she really lightened up the place. She’s really special with the girls, and with me traveling, she volunteered to stay. I know it was a pretty big sacrifice for her—she really loves her life back in San Francisco—but her granddaughters were so important to her that she couldn’t turn me down when I asked her to help out.

Photo 21

The ladies in my life.

At the same time, things weren’t going that well with me and Angie. Even after we’d been in the new house for a couple of months, Angie had not unpacked. She didn’t do things around the house. Instead, she spent her time going to the gym, going shopping, having her nails done, and hanging out with her friends. She went out just about every night and partied.

I could not believe it. I was so busy; I was working my ass off, working so hard, and I felt she just wouldn’t contribute to the marriage at all. It seemed like she had no interest in being there, or in me.

At some point, I began to think she’d turned into a bad stereotype: the bored, rich guy’s wife. That’s probably not the right way to put it—for one thing, while I’m not complaining, I’m not Bill Gates. But I think the stereotype is close enough to the truth. She became less of a partner and more like a token, a symbol: someone who doesn’t do anything but look beautiful and spend money.

That’s not what I wanted. That’s not what she wanted, not what she was when we first got married.

Then at some point it got back to me that she had started bad-mouthing me. It was pretty negative. I was told that even when she saw people I worked with, she’d bad-mouth me, just rip me apart. She would tell them all the ins and outs of our personal lives, which just drove me crazy. Of course my friends would come running to me and ask why my wife was saying this and that.

I didn’t know what to tell them. I couldn’t hide how embarrassed I was.

At the last
WrestleMania
she went to,
WrestleMania 22
in 2006, she and I went out to an after-event party. I was dancing with her, and I was loving all over her. I was trying to physically show my affection for her—nothing X-rated, just dancing close and holding her the way a lover ought to hold the person he loves.

She just started getting really shitty, bitching at me at the party for some trivial thing I don’t even remember. She walked away and went over to my mom, who’d come with us. She starting saying something about me—obviously, I wasn’t there so I don’t know exactly what it was—and my mother said something like, “What, are you kidding me? He’s all over you. He’s making an effort.”

Angie told my mom that it was all a big act because I didn’t want her to know that I was sleeping with somebody else who was there.

Basically, we’d gotten to the point where I couldn’t even show affection without her thinking that I was only doing it to cover up, and hurt her even worse.

Pretty hard to have a relationship on that basis.

Our marriage had become this big, paranoid thing. It was ridiculous. She was really out of control. We split up for good not long after that.

As I’m writing this, we’re in the final stages of getting a divorce. But the truth is, I still love her.

We’re still very close. In fact, we talk every day on the phone and still see each other. She’ll always be the love of my life. I just can’t imagine my life without her in it.

I know it sounds strange.

At some point maybe we’ll get back together. But I think until I leave this business, there’ll never be hope for us. And I’m not by any means ready to leave just yet.

PURSUE HER DREAMS

As much as it hurts me, I think our being apart may be good for her. I think it may give her a chance to pursue her own dreams.

Angie has a lot of different abilities. She’s very creative. She could have been a professional dancer, a singer, or both, if she’d pursued it. It always bothered me that she didn’t. She actually did the national anthem for OVW and for WWE house shows, which shows you how incredible her voice was.

She’s gone back to school and is studying to be a nurse. She’ll be an awesome nurse. I said earlier that I think she can go beyond that and become a doctor, but whatever she decides, if she puts her heart into it, she is going to be the best at it by far.

Like a lot of people, she had doubts about how smart she was, even though it was obvious to others, especially me, that she was extremely intelligent. Maybe she can find that confidence by being on her own. I think it hit her one day that she hadn’t done anything with her life over the last ten years or so. I think it sparked a fire under her ass. When she went back to school, she started to realize how smart she really is.

I am helping her go to school, and I’m very happy to play that small part. I have to say, I got a very easy divorce settlement. Basically, she just wanted me to help her continue her education, which is a lot less than she deserves.

Even though our marriage fell apart, I know I still love her. We can’t be together right now, but what will happen in the future, I don’t know.

Photo 6

Arguing with baggage clerks is a waste of time. And time is something I really don’t have tonight. It’s just about midnight and I still have to drive from Omaha to Sioux City, where I’m due in the morning for
Raw
and some taping for the upcoming
WrestleMania
. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be on both shows–I’m a
SmackDown! guy—but
we’re starting the buildup to
WrestleMania
, and my schedule over the next few weeks is going to get busier and busier. But I’m proud to be playing an important part in the show.

The luggage problem means I don’t have any clothes except for what I’m wearing, but I do have my wrestling gear and championship belt. Those are always with me on a flight. Especially my championship belt. If I checked that, I’d be buying a new one every week.

I learned my lesson one time early on when we were doing a show in New Jersey. I forget where I was coming from, but wherever it was, the attendants wouldn’t let me bring my carry-on inside the aircraft because the plane was just too small. So I did what they asked me to. I left it plane side, where I guess it was supposed to be taken and then placed in the cargo hold. They guaranteed me that my bag would get there. Of course it didn’t.

So I show up for the show, and of course, my gear is still up in outer space somewhere. I had to borrow gear from about three different guys to make up. I borrowed Randy Orton’s trunks and turned them inside out. I got boots and a knee pad from Rodney Mac, and an elbow pad from someone else. It was all a little embarrassing. People still have pictures of me wrestling in Randy’s trunks. They were turned inside out, but you could still see the imprint “Orton” on my ass.

From that point on, I’ve always kept my gear with me. I may not have my clothes, I may not be able to shave or brush my teeth, but I can go wrestle.

Tonight, Bobby Lashley volunteers to pick up my bags in the morning at the airport and bring them with him to Sioux City. With that straightened out, I head over to Hertz and grab my rental so I can get on the road again.

Lashley’s a great guy, and a wrestler with a lot of ability—and I’m not just saying that because he’s helping out. The first time I laid eyes on him I believe was up in Cincinnati. We were there for a match and a bunch of guys from OVW had come up. I saw Bobby Lashley and the thought “money” popped into my head.

The kid is just unbelievable. He’s absolutely huge, he’s intimidating, and he was a college wrestler, so you know he’s got the legitimate background. He also wrestled in the U.S. Army, where I believe he was a two-time Armed Forces Champion.

Away from the ring, he’s the sweetest guy going. But he’s money inside.

I was impressed with him from that day. I actually begged Johnny Ace to get this guy on the road with us. You could tell he was going to be a world champion. What he’s accomplished in a short amount of time is just incredible, and he’s got a good future ahead of him.

Losing my bag wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to me travel-wise. All sorts of strange things happen on the road. Some of them turn out to be pretty funny—later on.

I once showed up at this hotel in Corpus Christi, Texas. They had my reservation, but somehow they booked me the wrong room: a smoking double.

I always get a nonsmoking king, because I don’t fit in double beds, and if I sleep in a smoking room, my asthma flares up really bad. So as soon as I saw what they’d given me, I went back down and asked the lady at the front desk to change my room.

I should say—even if this turns out to be politically incorrect or something—the lady had one eye. Which was kind of weird.

She told me she didn’t have a nonsmoking king and I kind of pitched a fit, telling her why I needed it. Well, finally she found me a nonsmoking king room. So I said fine. I went up and walked into the room, only to be greeted by a pretty fat naked guy who jumped up out of bed and said, “Hey, hey!”

I was a little upset.

I walked back down to the One-Eyed Lady and told her there’s somebody in the room. She started arguing with me, telling me there wasn’t.

“I’m telling you, I just walked in the fucking room, and a fat naked guy met me at the door. There’s somebody in the fucking room!”

So she sent security up and the security guy came down.

“Yeah, there’s somebody in the room,” he told her.

So she found me another room. When I got up to the room, the air conditioner wasn’t on. Now, this is in Texas, and it was during the summer, so when I say it was hot, it was hot.

I go to turn on the AC and the AC did not work.

By this point, I was getting pissed. I went back downstairs.

“I can’t do anything,” said the One-Eyed Lady. “We don’t have another room.”

“Then send somebody up to fix the air conditioner,” I told her.

“Nobody’s here. Just me and the security guy.”

“So send him up.”

So this poor older black guy comes up. He’s just as nice as can be. But he doesn’t really know much about air conditioners.

“Well, I don’t know,” he told me. “I just do security. I don’t know if I can fix it.”

He starts messing around with the wires and it kicks on. I’m like, “Great! I’m all set!”

I started thanking him, apologizing for being cranky and everything—when all of a sudden the AC catches on fire.

The security guy runs to the bathroom, gets a towel, and comes back. The wires were all sparking with flames, but he managed to beat out the fire.

I told him I was going back down to talk to the One-Eyed Lady and he better come back down with me, because it was going to get ugly. He was going to have to keep me from wringing her neck.

I went back down and I cut a promo on the One-Eyed Lady. She finally ended up canceling somebody else’s reservation. It turned out to be a great room, with a king-size bed and a beach view.

I felt so bad later on that I tipped her and the security guy both a hundred bucks. And I apologized for being such an ass.

It sounds like a fish story, the One-Eyed Lady. But honest to God, there’s not one bit of exaggeration in the whole thing.