I’m not the cynical type. I’m the excited-about-life-and-follow- your-dreams sort of person. I had found my quirky-yet-remarkable prince on a white horse, and he had whisked me off into the sunset.
But as the sun rose anew on our first married morning in our new home, only one of us was there. The other one was quietly slipping away to be by himself out in the beautiful day.
“Where are you going?” I said in my grogginess.
“I’m just doing what I always do. This is what I do.” And at the early-morning hour of 6 a.m., he proceeded to walk out the door and begin his daily triathlon. Unexpected emptiness flooded me in that moment, and I lamented my aloneness. I can usually sleep easily in the morning, but instead I played that short dialogue over and over in my head. Oh well. There are plenty of new mornings ahead of us, I told myself. I’ve always been the hopeful type.
The next morning, I woke up alone.
The same thing happened the next.
He had gone right into his morning-triathlon/work/stay-up-late-watching-sports routine. I didn’t figure anywhere in his daily schedule. Weren’t we supposed to cuddle all night and all morning for at least a decade or five now? We finally had each other as mates for life. Weren’t we going to revel in our love for as long as we possibly could each day before our other commitments pulled us away? If not, how about at least two minutes?
It was as though I was just there, observing his life but not partic- ipating in it. Sharing the same bed, but sharing nothing more than the same mattress.
Many more days passed in this way. I still hoped for the best. He had been on his own his whole life, so getting accustomed to being solo one day then having a wife the next might take a few weeks.
A few weeks later, I called my mom. Sobbing.
Neglect’s Toll on a Wife: Perfection’s Grip on My Husband’s Attention © 2023-2024 Lila Meadowbrook
