Eighteen Years

She is standing in a tiny single room flat that used to be a garage at the back of Jack’s grandmother’s house. It wasn’t where she imagined she would be that day, but it was the closest thing to a guest room his family could offer. She is wearing a wedding dress. It isn’t white because only virgins wear white, so she’s chosen a simple floor length gown made of ivory tulle over satin. The sweetheart neckline is modest enough for a country church service, the beaded bodice flatters her tiny waist and the sleeves puff in a way that will date the dress quickly. Her dark hair, grown longer for the occasion, is up in a French roll. Cream pearls around her neck and in her ears finish off the look of a traditional bride. Her bridesmaid, Sue, secures the veil to her head.

It is a sunny morning in the small town where two thousand residents are going about their usual Saturday morning chores oblivious to the fact that today, 11 June 1994, is her wedding day. She has waited for this day, and now it is here she hopes the faint unease she feels is just nerves.

In some ways it seems odd to her she is getting married at all. Although at twenty-nine she has left it a lot later than her friends, she is an imposter in grown-up matters. Marriage is so sensible and mature and so unlike the way she sees herself. But it is the proper thing to do, the moral thing to do, and will silence forever the unspoken disapproval of her parents. No more will she be accused of living in sin or bring shame on the family because of her reluctance to follow the rules. Now perhaps her other choices will be forgiven in light of the fact she has made an effort to conform.

Jack is the perfect choice for a husband. Even though her parents have only met him once, they must like him. He is tall, young, handsome and intelligent, and has a bright future. He understands she doesn’t want to be smothered and keeps his distance.

She wouldn’t call their relationship passionate. When they first met at University in 1991 he slept in the same bed with her for almost a week before they had sex. It puzzled her, but she believed him when he said he was tired from all his course work. They both studied Stage Management which meant late nights working on shows and early mornings taking lectures. She was tired herself but could have worked up the energy if she had been encouraged.

Now, three years later, their sex life has settled into the predictable routine most long-term couples experience. Jack calls it her ‘duty’. She gets little pleasure from the physical act of making love and instead of it making her feel closer to him, he feels further away. She pushes away the memory of exciting sweaty sexual encounters with her previous boyfriends.

There are many reasons why she shouldn’t marry him but the reasons she should outweigh them. It is expected she should get married before it is too late. She should have the chance to have a beautiful home and perfect children. After all this time she should settle down. Maybe he loves her more than she loves him, or maybe he loves her less. They don’t talk about how they feel so she can’t be certain. But he asked her to marry him; he is sensible, stable and normal. She could do a hell of a lot worse.

And besides, it’s too late to back out now.

From Hungry for Love – A Romantic Tale of Obsession, Loss & Desire
a memoir by Katie Paul 

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It’s hard to ignore today’s date.

Duckfish says you can’t continue to count something that doesn’t exist anymore.

Eighteen years ago on 11 June 1994 I walked down the aisle and married the man I left sixteen years later.

Was my leaving such a terrible thing that he had to kill himself?

I’ll never know. It’s such a waste of a human life.

Each day people battle to stay alive — through illness, poverty, oppression and pain. My ex-/late- husband lost whatever battle he was fighting.

And I’m left to always wonder why.

Who knew how the life we began on 11 June 1994 would turn out. Would it have made a difference?

There are too many questions and not enough answers.