Let me back up a bit. As I have mentioned, my parents were really into raising me in church and having me read the Bible cover to cover multiple times. It is no secret that Christianity and divorce don't get played in the same round of Apples to Apples. I was raised among so many couples who lived day to day in loveless marriages because they didn't want to break commandment 7, "Thou shalt not commit adultery". Once you got married, that was it.
I loved the idea of being married, but I was also terrified of being trapped in a terrible marriage. I knew better than to want just a ring on my finger. I dated a guy for 4 years who had an amazing family who loved me and would have given me everything I ever wanted. But I didn't love him. I broke up with him right before he proposed (I knew about the plan, he wasn't stealthy).
I had not called off the near engagement for any reason other than a lack of love, but I understand that since I was only single for a week and a half before I started dating someone else that it did not look that way. The guy I started dating had been one of my closest friends for 5 years before that. We had worked at several jobs together and had always been close, but it wasn't until one day at work when I was getting the crap beat out of me by a patient on PCP, and for the first time in our friendship we both happened to be single, that he decided to ask me out. I had been close with his family. I had spent Summer vacations with them. I had cried and shared my deepest, darkest secrets with his mother. Of course I said yes. We ended up picking out our children's names on our first date. He came over to my house that night and ended up staying there every night since then, and more of his things kept appearing at my house. It wasn't planned, it just sort of happened.
5 weeks later on New Year's Eve while on a weekend trip with his parents, he proposed. I thought he was kidding. He wasn't planning it and didn't have a ring. I told him he was crazy, but he insisted that this was what he wanted. On the way home we stopped at a mall and bought a ring. The next year and a half of betrothal was not what I had imagined it to be. His family had understandable concerns about us getting married and I spent a lot of time convincing people that I was not eating for two, but that I just really like carbs. I grew up hiding most of my life from my father and lying to him about almost everything I did, so I also understand that a mother would be concerned that I would treat her son the same way. I have a very strong personality and sometimes my type A attitude can be perceived as aggressive and contrary when I only mean it to be an attempt to participate. He was always very close with his family and it broke my heart that I was causing him to grow apart from them. I gave back the ring and told him that he would be happier with his family, but he again insisted that I was what he wanted.
We went through the conversations with my father and the Pastor who married us about how marriage is forever and how divorce is a sin. We went through a nightmare of wedding planning that caused handfuls of my hair to fall out and at one point I lost a few toenails because I was so stressed. I painted red polish on my bare toe skin so that my feet wouldn't look so ridiculous. Everyone had a different idea of what the wedding should be like and what they wanted to do. The day finally came and I donned my giant white ball gown and "glass" slippers. I hated it. I hated the whole thing. The day I had dreamt of for 24 years had finally come and I was miserable. I spent that night in tears because I wished we had just eloped and not spent so much money on something that we didn't even enjoy. The only reason that I got to taste my cake was because my gramma had saved her piece and gave it to me 3 days later.
On the honeymoon we met two other couples with whom we became friends. Each of us had a spouse who was either an RN or PA, and we all just clicked. I remember thinking that 1 in 3 marriages ends in divorce and I wondered if our new group would fit that statistic.
The next 14 months, in my mind were great. We never fought. We did everything together. All of our friends told us they wanted what we had, and I agreed. I was married to my best friend. I think that may have been part of the problem. It was more of a friendship than a romance. Just as things seemed to be going as picture perfectly as they could be, my entire world changed. We both had good jobs, we were 3 weeks from moving into a house we had bought that was closer to his parents, we had a dog, and we were talking about starting a family. We went out to what was my favorite restaurant and talked about all of the things that were falling into place. During the 10 minute drive home from the restaurant, I learned that he wasn't happy. He told me he no longer wanted any of the above and needed some time to think. He packed a few things and I didn't hear from him for 2 weeks.
I had no idea what was happening. My picture perfect life was slipping through my fingers. I called my realtor to figure out what to do with now 2 houses hanging in the balance. My gramma took my dog so that I could work a zillion hours. I found out that I would be starting a family sooner than I had expected but I didn't tell him the news because I was not looking to attempt to trap him into staying. Seeing as how I was born with a defective uterus, I lost the baby before I even had the chance for him to panic. 2 weeks later, he told he he wanted a divorce. I was surprised how easy it was to fall out of love. I have a massive support system of friends and family who made sure that I came through the process better than ever. My realtor (who was a friend previously) ended up doing all that house hunting and work for free, took care of us backing out of the closing, plus managed to deal with my tearful phone calls at 2 am. I'm pretty sure I owe him free babysitting for life. Dreamy Eyes won the "friend lottery" and I showed up at his house, announced that I needed to be snuggled and would be spending my life on his couch until I felt better. (I am still sitting in the same spot as I type this. I am no longer sad, but the snuggles are pretty great. Shh!)
I spent a lot of time worrying about how disappointed my family would be with me. No one in my family is divorced. I became "poor cousin Heather". My father told me that I was wrong for agreeing to sign the papers and told me that I had better be content with never being married again, because no good christian man is going to marry an adulterous harlot. I got a lot of Bible verses quoted at me, you know the ones. Over the years I have become proficient in arguing in Scripture, so I brought up Deut. 24:1-2 "When a man hath taken a wife, and married her, and it come to pass that she find no favour in his eyes...then let him write her a bill of divorcement, and give it in her hand, and send her out of his house. And when she is departed out of his house, she may go and be another man's wife." Boom! Nope, still an adulterous harlot who was completely at fault for not being a perfect wife in dad's eyes. I was told by several of the church members that since I had now had my eyes open to the pleasures of the flesh that come with marriage, that temptation would now be greater and I would need to guard my heart fervently. They were pretty offended when I told them I didn't think it was so much my heart that would need guarding as much as other, more southern body parts.
I made it through the next 4 months fairly well. I went on vacation by myself. I stopped saying "no" when I got invited to do something a little irresponsible. I learned to mow my own lawn. I kissed in the pouring rain. I learned that spiders are easier to smash if you slow them with aqua net. My work partner went through the same thing a few weeks later, so he and I spent a lot of time at Pinkberry. I threw an awesome party but had a giant melt down when people wanted to play a card game and I realized that he had taken the deck of cards. One of my friends happened to have 4 decks in his car and gave them all to me on the condition that I just please stop my hysterics.
As the court date grew closer, I became more and more upset that I would have the title of "divorced". It just sounded like a title that would cause someone to dismiss the idea of a future with me because I had been a failure of a wife. Dreamy Eyes told me to stop being ridiculous and listening to people who are terrible. He told me that I could introduce myself as anything I wanted. Instead of saying "I'm Heather, and I'm divorced", I could say "I'm Heather, and I'm a unicorn princess".
The court date came. We actually had the most civil divorce possible. We both cried, he let me use his handkerchief and told me he was sorry. We sat there as all the other couples went before us because his name had to begin with a "W", therefore putting us at the bottom of the list. We watched them argue and high fived over the fact that we handled things better than those people did. We went out for drinks after and agreed that over all, we regretted nothing. People say I'm wrong for this. They tell me that I should be angry or want to light him on fire. I don't think that they get to be in charge of my feelings. Why spend my time being angry over what was essentially a break up with paperwork? Church people tell me that God can forgive me for committing the transgression of destroying a sacred bond. Hey, he's happier being close with his family again, and I traded up for way more handsome. On my death bed, when I look back at my life, I still get to say that I married my best friend.
When it was all finally over, I went to Dreamy Eye's apartment where he and a few of my girl friends were waiting with wine and the most amazing cake that was ever made.
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If you can't tell, the cake says "HAPPY UNICORN PRINCESS DAY!!" and has a tiny purple unicorn wearing a tiara that Dreamy Eyes formed out of a cupcake foil.
If you had told me a few years ago that I would be 27, no longer married, working 4 jobs, childless on purpose, independent, and happier than I could have ever imagined, I never would have believed you. I still talk to the other couples from the honeymoon. One couple just had an adorable baby girl, the other is having fun being young and seeing the world. The statistic was correct, and I was the one who made it so. Sometimes your fairytale isn't what you expected it would be, but that doesn't mean you can't make your own version of what happily ever after means to you. For me, happily ever after means being an adulterous harlot a unicorn princess.
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