Where happiness lies
I was at a big 60th birthday bash on Saturday night. Dress, formal. Opera singer there, too. Great long table of guests – about 50 in all. I chatted away, happy to be out, and feeling all prettied up with my hair blown out, nails done, a great dress on, fantastic high-heeled Mary Janes, and my cocktail ring, winking.
I am accustomed to being at a big party now, by myself, a single gal. I think I was the only one there who was unattached. I had no boyfriend or husband across the room or across the table to look at, to find safe mooring in his eyes. Oh, well!! Guess I will have to just rely on myself, I thought. And the taxi driver, to get me home….
The rest of the guests were mostly married couples, young and old, and some with boyfriend-girlfriend status. I know the woman whose birthday it was well, and her husband, too – newlyweds, really, as they, both divorced, were married about three years ago. I was pleased to be invited.
I was sitting beside a lovely woman, a doctor, married for 45 years, mother of four kids.
“Not kindness. Are you kidding?” she said, when I told her my theory that great, long marriages work because of kindness, the most under-rated quality in a man. Women look for charm, panache, big dough, good looks, but kindness? Nah. But that, if you ask me, makes for a good relationship. You want a guy who is always going to support you, be your cheerleader, and who will listen, not judge.
“Oh, Martin and I argue all the time, ” this 60-something wife told me. “He doesn’t always win, and neither do I. But that’s how we like it. We discuss things.We respect each other’s opinions.”
They met in Saskatoon, where their families were from. “I had lots of marriage proposals,” she told me, her bright blue eyes sparking. A very attractive woman, she maintains her figure. Dyes her hair brown. “But Martin and I just connected on some very fundamental levels. We like the same things. We talked about everything. He is not the best looking,” she said, laughing, as she looked over at her balding, paunchy husband across the table. “But that never mattered. You have to have more than that for a marriage to work.”
The conversation got me thinking about marriages – what makes them work, when they work. I think I married when I did – at 24 – because my husband, a few years older than me, was extremely good-looking, charming, and we could talk in a way I had never experienced with another man. So, yes, love was involved, big time. But also, I liked his version of me better than the one I had of myself. And the decision to marry gave me a path, an identity, when I wasn’t sure I had one. I was in the midst of my confusing twenties. I was highly eligible, and a mess about who I really was. Figures, eh?
If I were to meet the same kind of person now – the same kind of man as my ex is – I would know better. He was more surface than substance. He looked good on paper and in a tux. Which doesn’t go far, when you are trying to live the rest of your life together.
Even so, even if I feel I have fixed my man radar a bit, I don’t see many marriages I would want at this stage. Do you? Mostly, I see couples who are in a habit, who are too lazy to look for something better, or who are too scared to try. Marriage is safe, like apple juice. I’m not promoting divorce, per se. It is one of the most difficult transitions to make in life. So painful. But it does make it clear, once you have gone through it, just how clouded our perception of love is, of marriage. We have few illusions left, once you are divorced.
Sometimes, I think it is the institution of marriage that is at fault. It is not always the best custodian of love. The identities we assume, as husband and wife, somehow mess the whole thing up, when really, all you want to do is love, is live, is enjoy.
As I left the party last night, after a bit too much wine – gee, negotiating the stairs in my high heels was difficult! – I thought about how happy I am to be as I am right now, single, self-sufficient, loved by my kids, by my friends, my family.
Today, I went out into the spring day and bought tulips for my house. They are fresh and pink, and I read the New York Times, and I had a Starbucks coffee, then I went to the gym, made dinner for one of my boys, who is here, and now, well, I am going to have a nice, long bath, drink some mint tea, read my book and go to bed.
The world feels good, at least for tonight.
