I, Heather, take thee _____________________ to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward. For better, for worse, in sickness, in health, for richer, for poorer, as long as we both shall live.....
"...as long as we both shall live...." What a concept. Solum fideles for the remainder of one's days... Is this commitment too great a feat? People stand before God, their parents, their friends from daycare, and the pity-invited guests and swear unadulterated passion and affection until to dust their bones return... I wonder how frequently this oath is made in jest, ignorance, innocence, coercion, and sincerity.
I would like to confess I faithfully pledged my heart and body to my spouse without an ounce of hesitation or reservation. That would be as great of a lie as my lily-white wedding dress attempting to prove that true love really does wait. I was terrified...and more than moderately tempted to accept my dad's offer to jettison out the back door before the flower girl reached the stage.
With my shaking hands and awkward countenance, I pledged my fidelity and skirted out the church door to begin life with my husband....
I think the "honeymoon" phase lasted about a month before his million annoying personal habits I previously found adorable became the bane of my existence. I didn't remember the vows stating, "Thou wilst love thy husband even when he snores loud enough to wake the dead, forcing you to sleep on the couch for nine months...." ...That, by the way, is not an exaggeration.
I knew he loved me...relentlessly...but I felt like a prisoner in my marriage...uncertain of my love for him, uncertain of my desire to fulfill those seemingly iron-clad oaths I'd repeated months...and eventually years before.
My fidelity was tempted on two occasions and though I never acted on the wavering emotions, the possibility was there. I couldn't ever follow through...I wasn't a cheater...I couldn't do that. I couldn't bear to see the pain in my husband's eyes at learning I'd given my body to another man.
Five and a half years of growing up, growing apart, and attempting to force a love to exist. I don't care what the religious say about breaking covenant relationships...or the lie that "love is a feeling" and sometimes you're not in love with your spouse, it's just comfortable companionship. Frankly, that's bullshit. Love isn't a feeling, it's a verb. It is given and it is received. I don't want a comfortable companion....and I don't want to half ass a marriage by forcing the relationship to be something it's not meant to be.
We tried everything from counseling to time apart....
We thought a baby would help bind our relationship, intensify the bond we so desperately craved...though we didn't get pregnant to save our marriage. The pregnancy was a surprise...and the loss of it was the first nail in the coffin as our marriage began to die. I grieved in a manner unlike any other in my nearly 30 years of breathing. I sat in the corner of my room and slept alone.... my husband sat in the company of another and slept beside her....
Suddenly forever vanished.
The commitment, the oath, the vow....was broken. And I was torn about my response? Was I to be devastated by his repeated infidelity or relieved that neither of us had to fake our affection any longer? I confess it was almost a 50-50 division in my chest.
I thought for a long time that he inadvertently gave me a second chance to find the love I was meant to experience in a marital relationship. In a way, I suppose he did... but as I re-attempt a committed romantic involvement with a wonderful man, the reality of the marital betrayal aches in my bones as I ponder the possibilities of recurrence. Whether or not I felt like remaining faithful to my husband in the course of our marriage, I did. When I echoed the minister's words, I meant them and my soul became tied to my husband's. My body became his...and his became mine...
When someone stands before God and promises solum fideles...they should probably fucking mean it...and mean it enough that no matter what shit the relationship encounters, the commitment remains as pure as that heinously white taffeta number I wore in the ceremony.
What do you do when forever fails? I suppose the only thing you can do is try again....and hope to God that the next time you commit to it, you earnestly believe it's a worthwhile investment.
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