My marriage
to ex-husband #3 should have never happened. I even had concerns prior to our
marriage. I found a therapist and we spent weeks talking about him and the
pending nuptials.
The main
reason I kept the plans moving forward was because of my mother. She believed that
a woman had to be married to be a success in life. Looking back at her marriage
to my father, that should have shown her that life without a man was better
than the life she had with him.
At the time
of my engagement, my mother was dying of bladder cancer, and having me married
off before she died was her wish. The cancer decided otherwise. She died on
September 1 and we were married on September 12.
I had always
wanted “a real wedding” held in a church with bridesmaids, a flower girl, a
ring bearer and me wearing a fancy long dress. Plus, a sit-down dinner for
friends and family at the local country club. And, a honeymoon in Bermuda. Those
things did happen. A fairy tale event with a happy ending. Not quite.
Once we
returned from the honeymoon, reality hit me in the face. Within one week, #3
was back to working 60 hours a week with a 90-minute round trip commute. And, I
tore the cartilage in my knee and had surgery two days later.
On the trip
home from the hospital, #3 insisted I sit in the front, but there just wasn’t
enough room for my leg to stay straight. I didn’t think of the option of
sitting in the back which I should have. I just put up with the pain for the
40-minute ride home, though I did complain the entire trip. At home, he put me
in his Lazy Boy recliner and I was dependent on him to haul me out of it. After a few hours of putting up with this
arrangement, I had him move me over to the loveseat. From there, I could hobble
to the bathroom and kitchen on my own.
My birthday falls
on Christmas day and it was my first year without my mother to celebrate my
birth. Of course, there was the new husband and his family, but they didn’t
celebrate my birthday like my mother would have. I felt a sense of detachment
from #3 and I know he wasn’t aware of how sad and lonely I felt about my
mother’s death.
Over the
next five years, I floundered along in our relationship. My collection of things
grew: snow globes; teddy bears; Longaberger baskets; and of course, jewelry.
These material things and romance novels kept me going. He did his hobbies and
I did mine. Not exactly, my idea of a fairy tale.
During this
time, I really didn’t know how he was feeling. He never participated in any of
the discussions I tried to have about our relationship. I decided to write him
a letter about my feelings. Here’s the interesting thing: he never commented on
what I wrote. I waited days and finally asked how he felt about what I had
written. His comment was, “I’m evaluating the contents of the letter.” He never
responded to that one or any of the others I wrote to him. Those unanswered
letters played a huge part in why my relationship ended with him.
To be
honest, I was miserable. I wasn’t looking for anyone. Then Mary came into my
life and we had a tryst. That choice turned into a wonderful, loving
relationship, which has now been going on for 14 years. And Mary and I don’t
need to write letters to each other about our relationship. That is because we
communicate and share how we are feeling. Now, that is a fairy tale ending.
Until the
next time…
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