No Hot Bods at the Ready
A response to an article lost, a few words to what I think was a young man who had a bad bit of luck in the world of marriage, but more, who still needs to get that the 50’s was not our friend in setting the tone and tenor of matrimony, that a woman does not have to wait around the house with your slippers and pipe, nor be standing there at the kitchen table, hot meal at the ready, nor does she need to be waiting for you in the marital bed, hot bod at the ready to please you, either:
I am not too sure if I am the right person to respond to this, as I have been married too many times, have engaged in extramarital affairs and, while now long sober, have an even longer history of drink under my belt. But what I once was was young and know the foibles of being such. I know, too, the rash decisions that can go into making really, really big decisions like marriage. And finally, know that mistakes can be compounded by even bigger mistakes when you drive along the road of love with your eyes wide shut.
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I read your story with interest and then stepped away from it for a long while, as to not sound preachy or seem “judge-y”. Priggishness is young person’s game. It can bring up all sorts of righteousness and a desire for control. Been there, done that. I have to wonder when you met your spouse if you were already on the road to wanting to fix her, or just fix someone, or even just fix yourself. I say this because I am all about empathic suffering, and know what it is like to be broken and to want to fix “broken” people. What’s more, I am all about rescuing those folks, to the point of self sacrifice and loss.
You went through lots of nights with her out and about when you were single, so you saw what set and reset her switch on the daily; thanks to that you were somewhat culpable for those nights alone around the house. It reminds me of what I had to see growing up, my mom waiting through seemingly endless nights for her husband to get home. She finally unloaded him, for the same reason: too much drink, one too many affairs.
So, on one hand you left and feel good about your decision, the other maybe you should have never been married to begin with, knowing that you didn’t meet her at a volunteer gig or at some church social. She was never going to be there for you the way you wanted her to be.
Next time, if and when there is a next time, vet your intended more thoroughly, but better, find someone who really, truly, values the home life. What is funny I finally did and she left me anyway. Sometimes we learn hard lessons and sometimes we just don’t. Love is strange that way. Cat
