Today I woke up in tears. Today would be my 19th wedding anniversary. Valentines day. Advice to brides: Do not mix your wedding day with any other holiday, because you just never know! God Forbid you get married on Christmas!
My wedding day was clear and warm, with blue sky's and puffy clouds and the beautiful early spring weather that only exists in San Francisco. We lived in a gorgeous little jewelbox of a victorian townhouse, painted in deep royal jewel tones, and there we were married, in front of a glistening stained glass window, and a marble gas fireplace.
My gown was a renassaince gown, made of burgandy velvet lined with rose taffeta, with a kinsale cloak of dusty lavendar. My veil was of dusty violet lace, covered by a fine chainmail mesh. My hair was red that day, and my nails were long and manicured.
The service was from the King Edward the sixth prayer book. I promised to love, honor, and obey. I meant it, oh gosh, I meant it. I take vows before God seriously - and to this day I do not know if divorce is really possible for me.
On the other hand.... Nick had his fingers crossed. He had lied to me. He made his pledges while calculating how to get out of it in shortest order. So, I am not sure that I was ever married. I don't know what to call this man. I really don't. Was I married? I don't know.
This was the happiest day of my life. I think too it may have been the saddest, because I think maybe even then I knew I wasn't really loved. I feel so ashamed, thinking back, of how cheaply I held myself. I should have married someone who was so happy to have me, so overjoyed to have someone who truly only wanted to be his... and at this time and age, it was all I wanted. To be owned, to belong to someone, to obey someone, to look up to someone.
I thought he wanted this too. I suppose I deluded myself, and lived in a fantasy world still of true love, of knights in shining armour, of damsels in distress and of mystery and magic.
I miss that girl. I want to believe in those things again.
In the deepest part of my heart, I would like to find another man whom I could love as much as I loved Nick, and who would love me back as passionatly. Someone to whom I would feel compelled to belong to... but I don't think it is bound to be. I don't think I could do that again. It is a childish desire, I suppose.
I have a life filled with love now. I have a gorgeous son, enough to eat, wealth enough, live in a glorious city.... I have not one, but two men utterly devoted to me -whom I in turn love, and a third who sits on my mind. I have true and devoted friends, and a very good life. I live in a wonderland, considering where I have been. My sex life is magnificent, my work is fun, if not always entirely rewarding -
So, this compulsion to be owned? To "belong", for "true love"? What is it? Biology? Hormones? Conditioning? Too much Disney, not enough Dostkevsky? Or are we driven to find spiritual harmony in pairs? Or maybe I am just greedy. Or stupid. Or the same little girl I was on my wedding day.
So life goes on... I am a grown up. I put away childish things, I keep to my vows and commitments, and I do the best I can.
But can I still please believe in fairies?
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