I have many friends who are married — not many who are happily married, but many married friends….They knit their eyebrows and pretend to think of men they can set me up with, but we all know there’s no one left, no one good left, and I know they secretly think there’s something wrong with me, something hidden away that makes me unsatisfiable, unsatisfying.
The ones who are not soul-mated —- the ones who have settled — are even more dismissive of my singleness: It’s not that hard to find somebody to marry, they say. No relationship is perfect, they say — they, who make do with dutiful sex and gassy bedtime rituals, who settle for TV as conversation, who believe that husbandly capitulation — yes, honey, okay, honey — is the same as concord. “He’s doing what you tell him to do because he doesn’t care enough to argue,” I think.” “Your petty demands simply make him feel superior, or resentful, and someday he will fuck his pretty, young coworker who asks nothing of him, and you will actually be shocked”….
Don’t land me in one of those relationships where we’re always pecking at each other, disguising insults as jokes, rolling our eyes and “playfully” scrapping in front of our friends, hoping to lure them to our side of an argument they could not care less about. Those awful “if only” relationships: “This marriage would be great if only…” and you sense the “if only” list is a lot longer than either of them realize.
You want me to forgive you?
Page 1 of 629