You know that old saying? Two nice people not meant to be together?
I always thought that divorce was for people who hated each other. Husband and I don't hate each other, not at all, so how did we end up here? He doesn't drink, he doesn't beat me, and he only fucked around the once. twice. whatever. anyway...
It turns out, we are great friends, lousy spouses. There's nobody I'd rather talk to, nobody I'd rather hang out with, go to the movies with, go to sleep with, than him. But when I got married, I had a whole host of silly, antiquated, antediluvian notions how what marriage was supposed to be like, and what a husband and father should be like. I was young! Naive! Doe-like in my innocence.*
And then, reality.
I think, perhaps, that I'm just not a fan of reality. I had my mind made up about how it was going to be, and that's not how it was. And it sucked. I have never been so disappointed in my entire life. Truly. And for a while, I was willing to grin and bear it. Well, bear it. I don't do much grinning anymore. And then I realized that I didn't have to bear it anymore. And everything broke wide open, and we've never been happier.
I wish I was joking.
*I'm assuming that he had certain notions too, but then again, maybe not. I'm not really certain. Must ask.