A fellow blogger who is now my beloved friend asked me recently why I married. I’ve been thinking about it ever since. I don’t think I have come up with any revelations but writing feels good.
As a child I would have never expected to end up married. I was already well-documented on the subject, reading any adult material that I could find and I was also no stranger to divorce, shitty relationships and the overall dissatisfaction that comes with them in my immediate family. My mother divorced twice and my father’s second marriage appeared to be incredibly empty to me. Marriage as a sacrament seemed like a promise to never change, to remain constant. I knew when I was 10 years old that I could never promise something so impossible to another person. It’s funny how life with it’s winding roads and countless adventures takes you to places you never thought you’d go. I am 43 years old now, I’ve been married for nearly 14 years to a man 21 years my senior. We have been together even longer than that. Close to 20 years. I find that incredible not because there is any merit in making it work (it’s often more courageous to throw it all away) but because time has just slipped by so quickly, because routines have been established…written in rock more or less, because my life looks nothing like the one I had hoped for. It would be preposterous to complain. I am in no way abused or mistreated. I am a bit of a modern-day Madame (B)Ovary.