“Would you ever remarry?” The question from a co-worker took me by surprise, but never pondering it wasn’t one of the reasons.
I’m a 55-year-old guy who divorced 13 years ago. My ex and I had two wonderful children, our son now 18 and our daughter almost 15. And, okay, I’ll come clean – I was married once before, very fortunately having no children to show for it.
After my ex and I parted company, I vowed not to become involved in a relationship for quite some time. Little did I know that “quite some time” would turn out to be 13 years – with the clock still ticking.
But, you know, I had my children’s best interest at heart, never wanting them to feel as though a woman, and perhaps her children or ours, had robbed them of my affection and allegiance.
Was I lonely? Yes! Would I sellout? No.
Now, I actually gave a relationship a go seven years ago. It had been six years since the divorce, so when the opportunity surprisingly presented itself I believed my children, and I, were seaworthy enough to set sail. So the voyage began.
But along came a certain spring Saturday. “Lisa” and I had been dating for a couple of months and we agreed it was time to bring my crew into the picture. She’d never had children, by the way. So I brought them to her home for an all day visit.
All went very well, thank you. Well, at least until mid-afternoon. My daughter was enjoying a movie, Lisa was cooking, and my son and I decided to put up a tent in the backyard. So we’re doing the scratch and spit thing and before long my daughter joined us (I don’t know what kind of “thing” it became then). Nonetheless, the three of us were having a large time in the backyard.
Lisa joined us in fairly short order; however, it wasn’t the Lisa I’d come to know. She’d become a little frosty, and after a brief “say-hi” returned to the kitchen.
I had a feeling I knew what was up, so I joined her in the kitchen and we began to chat. After a few minutes, out it came. Lisa told me she wouldn’t be able to share me with my children. Yes ma’am and yes sir, she flat-out told me she was “jealous” of them.
So, okay, I was peeved for a bit. But the more I thought about what she said, the more I admired her for her brutal honesty. Given what she was feeling, it was the honorable thing to do. And, together, we made the decision to go our separate ways.
Was I lonely? Yes. Would I sellout? No.
I don’t know about you, but as much as I’d love to fall in love with a wonderful woman, and have her fall in love with me, I can’t allow loneliness to void the lessons of my mistakes. I mean, what could possibly be worse than turning your back on your principles by jumping into a relationship only to cure an emotional ill? I promise you, just as you’re knee-deep the right man or woman will come along and you’ll know it – and forever regret your impulsive decision. Ouch!
Will we be lonely? Yes. Will we sellout? Not if we know what’s good for us (and everyone else).
Oh, would I remarry? Yes.
How ’bout it chipur readers – wuddauthink? Please comment.