He came back the next day. He sat by himself at the counter and talked to me. He told me I looked like the princess inThe Little Mermaid.
I saw the movie, but I think fairy tales and princesses are ridiculous. All the endings of fairy tales should be changed. The princess and the prince should not marry. They hardly know each other. They should go to college or trade school. They should date and see if they have the same morals and valuesand ideas on how to live life. They should agree on future plans and how they’ll support the other person’s life and dreams. They should have serious conversations about money, in-laws, jobs, household chores, faithfulness and loyalty, children, religion, politics and social issues, how they will handle aging and/or sick/dying parents, etc.
Most importantly, there should be a lot of listening going on to make sure that they are compatible, have fun, and can laugh together. They should also make sure they know how to work problems out and that their fights do not get toxic, filled with the silent treatment, condescension, derision, or freewheeling anger.
I didn’t follow my own advice.
None of it.
And that’s why my marriage to Martin failed and had many of the problems I listed above.
I should never have married him.
I consider it a total and complete loss of logic, analysis, and practicality on my part. Essentially, I stopped thinking. Before I met him, I was lonely. I felt alone. I was vulnerable. I was tired of missing Logan and wondering what he was doing and who he was with and when he would get married to a perfect woman and have perfect children.
I made a huge mistake.
Martin was handsome and sophisticated, or so I thought, flirty, cheerful, and smart. He was an extrovert and a partier and had a lot of friends. I was not interested in dating in college. I was busy with school, work, and my three roommates. I had met them in the dorm, and they were always doing crazy, funny things. I participated in their craziness. We had the best time together.
I think of my roommates as The Cats. Their names are Cassie, Catelyn, and Katina. For Christmas each year, to this day, I buy them pajamas with cats dancing/jumping/drinking tea, and I buy myself the same ones. We trade photos of one another.
The Cats didn’t like Martin from the start. I should have listened to their hissing.
But I liked Martin. He filled up a hole in my life. I should not have been looking for a “hole-filler.”
Martin called and texted often, wanted to be with me all the time, and sent flowers and gave me little gifts. It was a lot all at once.
The Cats called it love-bombing. I ignored the bombs.
I liked Martin as a friend. I wasn’tinlove with him. I didn’t love him as a romantic partner. He was steady, though. He would be faithful, I knew that. He wouldn’t run off. He didn’t read much, though. He couldn’t do crosswords because they were “too hard.” He didn’t like chess and especially didn’t like it when I beat him. I started sleeping with Martin because I thought it would chase some of my loneliness away. I wanted to see if I could feel close to Martin, like I did with Logan.
I knew I should break up with Martin. It wasn’t fair to him; it wasn’t fair to me. He was happy with me, I could tell. He told me he loved me “so much,” and he said, “You’re so beautiful I can hardly look away. You’re a goddess, Bellini.” We had fun together, we laughed and talked, but I didn’t think there was a future for us. I knew soon that my experiment to forget Logan had not worked. I simply didn’t connect with Martin on a deeper level at all.
I knew that Martin sensed me pulling away. He got more controlling, wanted to know where I was all the time, who I talked to. I felt like I was suffocating. I would end the relationship soon, I told myself, despite how angry I knew he’d be. I had to get the courage and the strength, as I knew it wouldbe a stressful mess. I knew he wouldn’t take it well and would not let me go easily.
I was running a lot in college. I ran to settle my nerves and to quiet the noise in my head. The exhaustion helped me sleep at night. I was too thin. I knew I was too thin. I was simply, often, too busy, or unhappy, to eat. Now and then, my period wouldn’t come for a couple of months.
On a Saturday morning, I realized I hadn’t had a period for several months. I figured I’d lost weight, and that had triggered it. I was wrong.
I was three months pregnant.
I knew I would have the baby. I felt that rush of love and protectiveness immediately.
And I knew I could have the baby on my own and raise the little sweetheart as a single mother. I had my mother, my aunts and uncles, friends, and my cousins to help. But in all likelihood, Martin would raise the baby half the time. There was no reason for himnotto be granted half custody. He would have been a good dad. I had seen him with his nieces and nephews. He adored them. They adored him.
But me? I felt sick at the very thought of not living with my own child every day. I felt sick about being able to raise the baby only half the time. What if Martin remarried, and his wife didn’t like the baby…toddler…teenager? What if she had children who didn’t like our child? What if he got too busy with his new family and neglected our child?
I did like Martin, most of the time, although not when he became controlling and clingy. We could make it work, couldn’t we? Logan was my soul mate, but that relationship was lost. Gone. Was I supposed to be alone forever?
We got married at the courthouse because Martin said, “I don’t want to spend the money for a wedding, and this has got tobe quick because you’re pregnant.” He smiled at me. He seemed happy about the baby, but I didn’t understand the extreme possessiveness behind his happiness for a while.
We did not invite anyone to the courthouse. It was one of the most depressing days of my life. My mother and my aunts and cousins were so hurt that I didn’t have a wedding. They called and wished me the best, but they were tearful and emotional, and they couldn’t understand why we didn’t have a noisy, cheerful, O’Donnell family wedding out at my mom’s. They asked if I was pregnant, and I said yes, and they said they could get the wedding together “in two weeks!” They sent wedding gifts, and I cried over them.
A month after I found out I was pregnant, Martin and I graduated, and we moved to Portland because he got a job at a downtown CPA firm. I worked as a graphic designer for a shoe company. He studied to pass his CPA tests.
I wanted things to work. I ignored the fact that I did all the cooking and cleaning. He thanked me for the meals, usually, and asked each morning where the lunch I prepared for him was located. Each morning, it was in the fridge, as usual.
“Leftovers?” he often said, peering into his bag.
