In my two-and-a-half years married and two and a half decades of observing interactions around me, I've taken notice that marriage begins with an illusion. For some of us it's a vague or even toxic concept of love, and for others it's a fabricated bliss that is the umbrella of adulthood. Every person has a concept of the people they interact with, and that concept is not always realistic.
My husband mentioned marriage very early into the relationship, and not just in response to my long-term goals of creating a family. He must have liked something about me. Something beyond the "*beautiful*, *smart*, and *funny*" lie of a description that men give all women regardless of how true it is (because many people are none of those things and happily wedded off.) There had to be something about me to prompt a guy in his late twenties, with virtually no prior long-term relationship experience, to begin referring to me as his fiancée several months into the relationship, a time which half was spent thousands of miles apart. My own motives were loud and clear: I wanted a family with a man who had a job, car, and high level of intelligence. Never had I dated for "fun" and I had several three-year-plus relationships in my past by age 21, when we met. He seemingly met all the requirements, plus he was working on a Masters degree and had traveled. I couldn't find a problem.
I can only speculate what he saw in me. His motives are rarely straightforward and rarely is he self-aware of them. But I can imagine that he thought being married to me would be more "*quirk*" and less "*jerk*." A common mistake is assuming that an eccentric person is live-in entertainment and whimsy, especially if they are on the autistic spectrum, and I am. Maybe he thought I wouldn't be changed by motherhood. Maybe he thought I was smart
We don't like the same food or music, he is obsessed with sports and works in a social environment while I'm obsessed with serial killers and don't leave the house for days. I sell paintings for extra money, and he can't draw. He values tradition, I mock it. I seek to improve upon everything, which makes me sound like I'm being very critical, and he is highly sensitive to criticism (or even just lack of praise.) He isn't interested in anything I go on and on about and has not read any of my books, so he doesn't know anything about half of my life, yet I'm the kind of spouse that seeks understanding.
There is only one common interest we have, and that is our daughter. We agree on most aspects of parenting but, as usual, he's more conventional and I reject social norms. And I need to be heard out as to why. He is not big on listening to me.
He's a fun parent, I'm a bit stern. By now you probably realize he is day and I am night.
Our daughter is our common interest, but we do have another commonality, and that is that we write. But our topics, styles, and literally every aspect of what we write and why is entirely different. What we write about and the fact that we do share that aspect and ability is a fairly good representation of us as a couple.
"We both write, but one writes sports articles that are shared online for college sports fans to see immediately. The other one writes long horror trilogies for crime sleuths and sad people." And that is my husband and me.
In areas where one of us is clueless, the other is likely in the know. If we're both clueless, we're both resourceful. If we could communicate, we would probably be a great team.
In the wake of many fights, betrayal, and several separations, I'm trying to remember why he married me. It's not as if I don't have good qualities or that I hid the "bad" ones - the latter probably made me interesting until it made me difficult.
My "bad" qualities that have been brought up are character traits my husband openly says he hopes our daughter acquires. It's entirely subconscious and he has no response when I mention it. It seems the traits that make for an unhinged wife also make for a fun kid.
The things he saw that were good were real, as are the bad, but the bad blinds us if we let it. Just like the good did in the beginning.
How can we make this work? It's very simple. We can choose to look, listen, and be truthful. Without paying attention to what is happening with each other, walls and conflict inevitably arise. If we don't listen to each others words, we are directly showing that we don't care, so we have to shut to and listen and clarify. Lying is for enemies, not best friends. We wouldn't ignore our daughter if she felt badly. We shouldn't ignore our spouse, either.
It's more complicated than just being aware and honest, but that's the foundation. We weren't given good examples to follow for marriage, and that was out of our control, but what happens in *our* marriage is our choice. So far, the choices I have witnessed have been self-serving if not outright hateful. My marriage feels like a 90's RnB breakup song. I did not sign up for that. I want a sappy, poetic love song. And that's what I'm going to continue to seek - and I'm not going to beg for it.
I made mistakes. Plenty. But I was honest and real and raw and that was taken full advantage of by someone who I thought was my soul mate. And if he really is my soul mate, he needs to step up to that plate before the game is over.
As I sit in a pile of his laundry that I don't know for certain is clean or dirty, exhausted, feeling like an overdrawn bank account, I can't help but think he wants the game to end.
My husband mentioned marriage very early into the relationship, and not just in response to my long-term goals of creating a family. He must have liked something about me. Something beyond the "*beautiful*, *smart*, and *funny*" lie of a description that men give all women regardless of how true it is (because many people are none of those things and happily wedded off.) There had to be something about me to prompt a guy in his late twenties, with virtually no prior long-term relationship experience, to begin referring to me as his fiancée several months into the relationship, a time which half was spent thousands of miles apart. My own motives were loud and clear: I wanted a family with a man who had a job, car, and high level of intelligence. Never had I dated for "fun" and I had several three-year-plus relationships in my past by age 21, when we met. He seemingly met all the requirements, plus he was working on a Masters degree and had traveled. I couldn't find a problem.
I can only speculate what he saw in me. His motives are rarely straightforward and rarely is he self-aware of them. But I can imagine that he thought being married to me would be more "*quirk*" and less "*jerk*." A common mistake is assuming that an eccentric person is live-in entertainment and whimsy, especially if they are on the autistic spectrum, and I am. Maybe he thought I wouldn't be changed by motherhood. Maybe he thought I was smart
, not realizing that our forms of intelligence are very different. *we* are very different. Maybe he thought I would complete him.
There is only one common interest we have, and that is our daughter. We agree on most aspects of parenting but, as usual, he's more conventional and I reject social norms. And I need to be heard out as to why. He is not big on listening to me.
He's a fun parent, I'm a bit stern. By now you probably realize he is day and I am night.
Our daughter is our common interest, but we do have another commonality, and that is that we write. But our topics, styles, and literally every aspect of what we write and why is entirely different. What we write about and the fact that we do share that aspect and ability is a fairly good representation of us as a couple.
"We both write, but one writes sports articles that are shared online for college sports fans to see immediately. The other one writes long horror trilogies for crime sleuths and sad people." And that is my husband and me.
In areas where one of us is clueless, the other is likely in the know. If we're both clueless, we're both resourceful. If we could communicate, we would probably be a great team.
In the wake of many fights, betrayal, and several separations, I'm trying to remember why he married me. It's not as if I don't have good qualities or that I hid the "bad" ones - the latter probably made me interesting until it made me difficult.
My "bad" qualities that have been brought up are character traits my husband openly says he hopes our daughter acquires. It's entirely subconscious and he has no response when I mention it. It seems the traits that make for an unhinged wife also make for a fun kid.
The things he saw that were good were real, as are the bad, but the bad blinds us if we let it. Just like the good did in the beginning.
How can we make this work? It's very simple. We can choose to look, listen, and be truthful. Without paying attention to what is happening with each other, walls and conflict inevitably arise. If we don't listen to each others words, we are directly showing that we don't care, so we have to shut to and listen and clarify. Lying is for enemies, not best friends. We wouldn't ignore our daughter if she felt badly. We shouldn't ignore our spouse, either.
It's more complicated than just being aware and honest, but that's the foundation. We weren't given good examples to follow for marriage, and that was out of our control, but what happens in *our* marriage is our choice. So far, the choices I have witnessed have been self-serving if not outright hateful. My marriage feels like a 90's RnB breakup song. I did not sign up for that. I want a sappy, poetic love song. And that's what I'm going to continue to seek - and I'm not going to beg for it.
I made mistakes. Plenty. But I was honest and real and raw and that was taken full advantage of by someone who I thought was my soul mate. And if he really is my soul mate, he needs to step up to that plate before the game is over.
As I sit in a pile of his laundry that I don't know for certain is clean or dirty, exhausted, feeling like an overdrawn bank account, I can't help but think he wants the game to end.
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