Living with the same woman for thirty-six years and counting hasn’t been the least bit easy – in fact it’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.
Men aren’t supposed to talk about their feelings, emotions, our pain or our wife’s. Our society expects us to man up, put a smile on our face and soldier on with nary a peep as to the emotional turmoil we are hiding deep inside out of sight. In fact if we do dare to speak up we are treated as traitors for breaking the unwritten man code and our man card is revoked and taken away from us.
Small wonder far more men are successful at ending their own lives; ever though women attempt to take their life more often then men it is men who die far more often.
Three good things have at least have come from my unusual marriage (unused in that I’ve been married to the same woman) on the other hand my mother married my seventh stepfather not long after my wedding. Number seven wss a spring chicken at the age of sixty-nine and my mother soon to be a granny at the ripe old age of forty-three when they said I do at the altar.
It was also the last of her weddings I attended. After number seven died she married number eight, divorced him on paper when she became eligible to collect number sevens’s social security benefits then remarried him again on paper making him number nine.
After he died my mother informed me she didn’t plan on marrying again. Of course I shook my head while smiling informing her that yes she would indeed grace me with another stepfather. “When you’ve had the best you don’t want anyone else.” Was her reply.
And of course I did indeed turn out to be right, as she did marry again, making this one number ten. Who divorced my mother a couple of years later only to remarry her when he could no longer live on his own as he suffers from a form of dementia making him number eleven.
So over my thirty-six year marriage my mother has been married 5 times to three different men. Making me wonder what the hell is wrong with me since I’ve only managed to marry once; to a woman I can’t seem to please on a consistent basis. Nor have I been able to atttact a female friend with benefits to replace what my wife sees fit to no longer give me either.
Not that I’ve actually looked very hard!
The three good things to have come out of my marriage, such as it is, are:
1) My patient muscles get a pretty good work out.
2) My son.
3) I’ve recently discovered that I’m perfect – yep that’s right a perfect nuisance since my wife either discovers a new flaw in me on a weekly basis or maybe she’s just recycling the one’s she’s discovered down through the years of our (once again) thirty-six year + and still counting marriage.
Now if I could only breathe!