Once upon a time, oh say about 30 years ago, I was this naive, idealistic teenage girl.
My boyfriend and I wanted to get married, so we did.
If I’d known what heartache that would have caused me, maybe (in retrospect of course) I might have thought better of it. But, what was done was done.
On my wedding day, my mother told me that I would grow up and my groom would not. And you know, I wish I had listened, or at least believed her. But, being 19 and in love, that fell on deaf ears.
Until the day some 16 years later when my husband asked me why I didn’t feel the same way about him 16 years into a now failing marriage than I did when I met him at 15 years old.
“Because I’m not 15 anymore!” I said.
And I realized at that moment that my marriage was over, and that my mother’s prediction came true. I grew up, and he did not.
He blamed all of our woes on me and my wanting to have a good life for the four sons we brought into this world. I wanted all the bills to get paid on time and have food on the table and a roof over our heads. All he wanted to do with what money we got was buy stupid crap like Disney movies and expand his ever growing collection of TV Guides.
He couldn’t hold down a job because he thought he knew it all; he lost a job because he creeped out some girl he worked with. For far too long, I was the sole breadwinner, and when he did find a job, he tried to have it be mine, too.
Then he met some chick on the internet and declared our marriage over (something I knew long before this). He asked me for a divorce, and I said, “You pay for it.”
After being separated for 7 years, I finally got my divorce. After 22 years and nine months to the day we married, I was finally free!
And I swear to God that if he calls me today to remind me what this day is, I will hang up on him.
I have a life now. One that does not include him.
Praise God!
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I’m Stef and this is where it’s @ !~
where it's @ !~ 