I remember hearing a comic say that when you are single, all you see are couples. When you are married, all you see are whores. Or something like that.
I sure know that when you’ve been married 22 years, you think that there must be wonderful things about being single that you are missing out on. Freedom, an exciting social life, dating new, exciting people and sleeping around. But there is something else married people are missing. Crushing loneliness.
Of course, if your spouse runs off with someone else or dies, you have no choice. But my husband is sleeping at his brother’s. Why? Because he did something I didn’t like and I am a vicious bitch who won’t let it go.
We are really sick of arguing with each other. Sick of life. Sick of our running streak of bad luck, including the stress of having a teenager with a chronic illness. I don’t see how we’ve made it this long, actually. And it this point, it could go either way.
But there’s a part of me, the part that hates change, the girl that married at 20, that misses her groom. People change, people have all kinds of crisis, not just the mid-life kind, and people do stupid things. Do you throw away half a lifetime over what, in the big picture, are probably small things? A lot of people do. Some fall out of love. I wish I knew what was happening to us. I don’t. I only know I wish he was here, even if just to ignore me talking. Apparently I am set in my ways.
I wonder what will happen if he doesn’t come home. He might be able to move on, but I feel sort of paralyzed. On the other hand, if he does come home, I want to feel happy about it. I want to be thrilled. I want him to love me enough to marry me all over again. Most of all, I want to be worthy of it. I want to make him happy too. I just have this fear of an awkward silence, a moment when we realize there isn’t anything left to build on, the sadness of walking away. It would hurt less to just stay alone. I am afraid of high hopes. You know what happens when you fly too close to the sun.
