One stays married for fear of losing too much in a divorce, since her husband is a hot shot lawyer. After thirty years and a child, I don’t see how she could lose, but fear, nonetheless, has her by her bank account.
The other girl has been married a little over a decade, but being very religious, would never think of divorce. She prays instead, hoping God will heal her marriage. I think that depends on what God has to work with. A union lacking love is like baking bread without flour.
With the exception of financial safety, their lives read like prison sentences.
Here I am, broke as can be, but don’t have a partner I’d like to kill in his sleep, though it wasn’t that long ago when I did.
I remember you could have cut my unhappiness with a cleaver.
I was told by many how stupid I was to leave. I heard things like, “Where are going to find another rich guy at your age Susannah?”
“Just drink more and take money out of his wallet when he’s mean.”
“So’s he’s screwing somebody else, good…just think, you won’t have to sleep with him as often.” (no, sadly, these are not made up)
I’m from the school, you’re with someone because you love them, and if you don’t…get the fuck out, because life is just too damned short.
Tell me that on your deathbed.
I left my ex after my best friend died in 2009. It was the push I needed, because she too had been in a very bad marriage she so wanted to get out of, but then got sick.
Cancer, I’m afraid, even trumps divorce.
The two women I mentioned earlier tolerate their husbands. Love is nowhere to be found. Yes, they aren’t alone and their bills get paid, but to invent excuses not to be home makes me feel fortunate my life is lived, perhaps a little lonelier, but a lot more honestly.
I try not to judge, but it’s sad to me. Makes you wonder, did they ever love the men they married? My naivete says, if you loved them once, you could love them again.
I’m ashamed to admit, I never loved my former fellow that way. He was a rebound man that plied me with gifts and trips…fancy dinners and yes, enough alcohol to make me forget the asshole before him. He was like a sweepstakes I won to a place I didn’t necessarily want to go to, but went anyway. There was never a honeymoon period I could excavate five years later when he was schtupping an employee telling me what a bore I was, as he drunkenly searched for where he parked his rental car.
Have you seen it? I’d lie and point him in the wrong direction. Served him right.
As frightened as I am of my future, I can’t say I’m sorry I’m not still there smelling another woman’s cologne, even with fifties in my pocket.
I’d rather be alone, impoverished with the possibility, love…with all its luggage…is on the way.