Monday, June 29, 2009
Over dinner - which Mr. RK took me to after yet another excruciating Monday committee meeting, he said, "We've almost beaten the 65 percent!"
Apparently that is the percentage of couples who get divorced within the first five years of getting married.
We celebrate two "anniversaries" each year - the wedding one in January is sort of an afterthought, because for us the big hookup was July 13, 2004. That's when we knew this was, as they say, IT!
What happens to the 65 percent? And what is it with the five-year statistic? I'm morbidly curious about the other 35. How many of them are people who say, "Fuck it!" after 40 years? How many are people who finally come out? How many are just sick of being unhappy and muster the courage to end it? How many have "waited until the kids get to college" and in the meantime, have fucked up the kids with their example of miserable relationship interaction?
Relationships are odd. I have three friends who are getting divorced at the moment, and none of them, in my opinion, went into the marriage blind. As much as it sucks, I think in these cases, each of them is doing the right thing - one before she and her ex had kids, and two before the ex could fuck up the kids.
For years and years my dad said he felt bad about leaving my biological mother. A few years ago, my adult brother and I finally sat him down and said, "If you hadn't, we would have run away from home!"
An old friend who describes himself as "happily married" bombarded me with a slew of e-mails over the weekend: why didn't we get together in college? Did I ever consider it? Did I feel that way about him? Did I know he would have left all of his ex-girlfriends for me?
And essentially, I wrote back, "Are you sure you're happy?"
Every relationship has ups and downs, bends in the road - some minor (or major) accidents perhaps. But this question is one I think is worth asking every day.
Mr. RK is the only guy I've had a relationship or date with who didn't 1. bore me or 2. seem like the type who would dip his chicken in my bbq sauce without thinking.
No matter what happens, I have never been the type of person to ask, "What if?" I'm more interested in, "What next?"