I can seldom get through a day without asking, “What the fuck is wrong with people?” so it’s not like I’ll be winning a tolerance trophy or anything, but c’mon, I know you understand.
Oh, there will be rants, however, today we shall focus on a specific wtfness:
Why do men throw away umpteen years of marriage?
I am not divorced, therefore, my understanding of divorce is limited to the following:
I am a child of divorce.
My husband is divorced.
I know _____ divorced people. (Like Imma count ’em!)
I can tell you that sometimes divorce is the best possible outcome of a crap marriage, for I have seen the chapters preceding and the resulting successes of those who left when they’d decided they valued their own worth more than their marriage license.
I’m not talkin about those people.
I’m not talkin about people who’ve had a rough go, overcome a lot of crap in counseling, but ultimately decide to part ways and move on as graciously as possible.
I’m not talkin about people who married the wrong people and quickly figured that out and got divorced, no harm, no foul.
I’m talking about the longtime married people who…how to put this politely…one Saturday morning, before soccer practice, take their kids to the local pancake house and LOSE THEIR EVER LOVIN’ MINDS OVER THE COAT CHECK GIRL!
What is that about?
Why is it so common?
Yes, I know, women do it too. I just don’t know any of those women. I seem to be in a place in life? or at an age in life? where this sort of madness around me has reached epidemic proportions, and I wonder if today, instead of grabbing a coffee and a pastry, my husband will decide he’d rather have the barista instead.
This is the world I live in now.
I had assumed The Mister leaving the military accounted for his midlife crisis, but maybe it’s still lingering out there.
Maybe one day I’ll come home to find him making out with the babysitter, telling me he’s sorry and he never meant to hurt me.
Maybe one day he’ll decide his work wife is better than his actual wife.
Maybe he’ll fall in love with a student he drives home one night, the nurse who bandages his knee, or that lady who makes his omelettes with ham AND bacon.
You think this can’t happen? It’s happened to better women.
These men all seem to follow the same script. They leave for younger, less accomplished women, definitely — and as far as I can tell, less attractive women. You see, they may need to be loved in a way their wives just can’t love them. You know, like with BLIND ADORATION.
Your wife too good for you.
Yes, we all remember THE FALL when our person was new and we rushed toward tingles and goosebumps. In deeply cliched moments of afterglow, we even sighed and said, “I wish it could stay like this forever.”
However, once monogamy moves into a typical marriage, one has decidedly taken a leap of faith into the hope that ‘It will stay like this Mostly, Definitely on our anniversaries, and at least until one of us dies.’
Babies come and parents die and kids get sick and jobs change and houses are moved and taxes are due again. You work. You sacrifice. You compromise. You celebrate. You set new goals. You parent. You eat. You play. You do date nights and take vacations. You struggle and pray together. You make your way together, enjoying the highs and enduring the lows over however many years.
Then one random day, you’re bewildered by new truths that make the old truths seem like lies. You’re sure you can get through this. This happens all the time. It doesn’t have to be the end.
But it doesn’t stop. Denial abates and you see, this is the end. Divorce.
These men I speak of, they continue with the same script.
“She accepts me as I am.”
“She wants the same things I do.”
“I haven’t been happy in a long time.”
It’s an escape.
It’s an escape from reality, just like any other. Some of us enjoy hobbies and passions that are more the constructive sort, but we all need our escapes.
These are people who are so unhappy, so unfulfilled, they want to become totally new people. They’ll make a fresh start. They’ll do it right this time. They won’t screw it up. They’re older now, more mature. They’ll have new kids with this new person and things will be different. It’ll all be so much better.
UH, not so much. See, if one person can make you unhappy and another person can make you happy, then you’re not doin happiness right. Happiness isn’t a person. Happiness is a choice. It seems like mistaking people for events is a common problem here.
The grass is greener, eh?
The grass is greenest where it’s tended — or at my house, where the dog poops.
It’s what’s DONE to the grass that changes it.
Your grass was green before. It was the strongest, lushest grass you ever did see; that’s why you chose it in the first place. Did you water it during the drought? Did you remove the weeds and reseed it? Did you provide it with a sturdy fence? Did you let people walk all over it? Did you ever even consider adding stepping stones, flowers, or edibles? Did you aerate? Did you remove debris? Did you think to cover it with a tarp when the rains came?
You don’t need new fuckin grass, your sorry ass needs to become a better gardener. But good luck with that new grass, Bro.
When I commented on the post that prompted this one, I wrote, “Well, pardon me, but getting it right is owed to whom it was promised first.” I was so inspired to document my thoughts on this matter.
Have you ever lost your damn mind over the coat check girl? Do you think it’s contagious? genetic? a timeless pattern?
Feel free to vent, wave your hankies, or gossip here.