What Mama Never Told Me

Introduction

         The "D" word. It has more than four letters, yet it's much more vulgar, jarring, and emotionally upsetting to hear. It's common knowledge that 50 percent of all marriages end in the "D" word. Yet, all of us manage to get invited to at least one wedding a year. Why? Why does anyone think that "Our marriage will be different...We're really in love....Those people just didn't have what it takes...."
          The reason why people keep getting married is simple: They believe in the notion that love conquers all. More to the point, they're too young and inexperienced to know about the things that their mamas never told them.
         So, I guess what I'm saying is, Girls, call me Mama. My hope is that my experience can be an eye-opener for you twenty-somethings. Before you walk down the aisle, you should know what you're walking towards. You may have the makings of a wonderful marriage, I hope that you do, but let's cut the fairy tale bullshit. Fairy tales always end when the real work, the marriage, is just beginning.
         If you're a thirty-something gal, like me, I hope to become a silent friend that can testify to what your experiencing. Someone who knows the pain, guilt, shame, anger, frustration, fear and flat-out anxiety that comes with beginning your life anew. If you are the only divorcee in your circle of friends, I know your pain. I hope that you let me help you through it.
         You forty-something women, well, I hope I can give you a sense of, "Whew, I'm glad that's over!" I hope that this book lends you a smile in knowing that you had the strength and courage to fix a mistake in your life. You have moved on to bigger and better things, secure in the knowledge that life is never what you think it will be.
         Now, if you are a woman that's happy in your marriage and are content with your life's direction, well, God Bless you! Put this book down and go buy something you really need, like a pedicure or a massage. You already know what Mama never told you, but you figured out how to make a marriage work, despite the odds. Good for you!
         Okay, back to the rest of us...whomever you are, where ever you are in life, I hope that you enjoy this book. I hope that this book becomes a Cosmopolitan for the Soul, rather than a bowl of Chicken Soup. (Don't get me wrong. Chicken Soup is great, but sometimes a gal needs a stiff drink. We aren't living in a world where Grandma's advice is necessarily the best medicine anymore).
         I hope that this book is given to a friend going through hell, from a friend who's already been there. You decide. In the meantime, I'll hope; because hope is just as strong as love, but you can hope flying solo!

Chapter Three

         That's right, we're starting with Chapter Three. That's where I am in my life, and that's the middle of things. So, I think, that it's a perfect place to start.
         Tomorrow could possibly be the most important day of my life. It's not my graduation day or my wedding day. Nope, it's not what you think. Tomorrow at 11:00 am, eastern standard time, I have a meeting with my husband and my therapist, and I'm going to tell him that our marriage is over.. (That extra period isn't a typo, it's for emphasis).
         The only word that I can think of is surreal. Dreamlike. Am I really going to do this? I've thought about it, talked about it, dreamed about it for so long? Am I really going to leave my life to start another one? Is that what I really want? I live in a 2-story, red brick, Cape Cod in a suburb of Pittsburgh. I have brand new appliances, furniture (living and dining room), and a picket-fenced back yard. I have two dogs, golden retrievers in case you're curious, and I can't wait to leave all of it all.
         The question is why am I leaving this man and this lifestyle. Is there another man? Sort of, but not really (that's for the next chapter). Does he beat me? Hell no! Is he verbally abusive? Not even close. Did he have an affair? Nope. Is he gay? No, he's actually incredibly homophobic. (He won't wear v-necks, turtlenecks, or any colors other than black, blue, dark green, khaki, olive, and grey--all for fear that someone may think he's gay).
         The answer, ladies, is simple. We don't fit. Not anymore. In fact, I wonder if we ever did. I keep thinking of a child trying to fit a round peg in a triangular hole. No one scolds the child for attempting to make it work. Nobody blames the child for not being able to make it fit. It's obvious. Move on. So, that's what I'm going to do...after months and years of avoiding the obvious....I'm moving on...
         But, before I do, let's backtrack, shall we?