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Today is My Sixth Wedding Anniversary and I Can’t Celebrate With My Husband
I’ll reminisce instead.
There was a time, not that long ago, that I was embarrassed to tell anyone how many times I’ve been married. When my husband and I were at the register of deeds office filling out our marriage license, the clerk gave me the side-eye when she got to the part on the form for “number of previous marriages”.
“Three”, she asked?
“Yes,” I said. With my eyes averted.
“Well, I guess the third time wasn’t the charm in your case now was it?”
Ya think?
Trust me, I really wanted it to be. I actually had the gall to say those exact words when we got married. Stupid girl. I wanted that marriage to work so badly that I ignored multiple red flags. I knew better, truly I did, but ignore them I did anyway. All in the name of saving face.
You see, my second husband told me my third marriage wouldn’t work. My mother told me it wouldn’t work. My third husband’s mother told me it wouldn’t work. I don’t care to be told I can’t do something. So I pushed through and I did the best I could to make it into something it wasn’t.
For the sake of argument, our marriage didn’t work out, but not for any of the reasons all those people…
