What is Love?

It's hard to find the right person to marry, don’t you think?  They have to be ‘Mr. Right’. We have an ideal in our head, a ‘happy ever after’, a picture of what love really is. Or do we?

Looking back, I realise that:

A. He wasn’t that difficult to find, and

B. That must be because he never was…‘Mr Right,’ that is…   Nor the one after that or the one after that.

Yep, you’re right, three times; it’s what they call the ‘hope of triumph over experience,’ or in other words, in my case, stupidity! Yet they have been part of my patchwork of life and all taught me something about myself, the world, human nature and what we call love.

We wander through the world, in our insecure attachments, meeting others of the same ilk, wanting connection, ‘love’ and companionship (if it lasts long enough). Are we/am I a serial monogamist, a philanderer, or needy? I’ve asked myself so many times, my mother has used all those phrases for me in no uncertain terms more than once and ‘friends’, who I’d prefer to call acquaintances, have looked on in disapproval and I hear them sigh, “Not again” under their breath with subsequent frequency.

Yet here I am again, on my way to another divorce court…

Looking back, the most stable part of my life was with my second husband. He is the father of my children, not addicted to anything, (alcohol and porn being the preference of others), and we made a stable home for as long as we could together.

The other day my daughter commented that we had gone full circle, she’s possibly right;  I had answered the door to him, when he came to pick up my son, with nothing but a towel wrapped around me and a shower hat on my head, (not even one of the flowered variety but a cheap one taken from a hotel somewhere along the line).  He looked shocked for a second before coming in for a cup of tea, proclaiming, “Well, I’ve seen it all before I guess!”. We sat and chatted for 40 mins until I realised the dye on my hair was only supposed to be on for 10 and had such horrific thoughts that it might just come away with the shower cap that I had to excuse myself. Yes, it felt good (especially when the hair was still intact), no really, I love his company. And yes, I only meant him to be a good friend when I met him 24 years ago and yes, I slept with him on the first date - maybe that’s my perennial mistake. But he remains a good friend and I have two wonderful ‘childadults,’ to boot.

So the reason for this post is to look back and look forward, as I do and have always done on my own blog.

A grand total of three husbands, 2 alcoholics (why didn’t I learn the first time), and a lovely man who should have been my best friend - that is the glance behind. But looking forward is less obvious, how to do it differently next time? 'Don’t get married again', I hear you scream! Well, I think you possibly have a point.

And as I prepare to leave my third husband in a few weeks' time - the house is purchased but the divorce is in the distance - I wonder why he still tells me he loves me and wants to hold my hand in the street? I shrink from his touch on a daily basis and we have been in separate rooms for what seems like forever. The thought of sharing a bed with him disgusts me, yet once I liked it enough to think I’d be with him ‘forever’. What happened to that? He seems to think we still might keep it together, even whilst living apart and that it might ‘be the making of us’. This has made me feel guilty more recently because I know I will never want to sleep with him again and the distance in my heart is far too great to build a bridge across to him now.

However, yesterday things shifted. I borrowed his iPad, his Gmail was open and I could see he had a ‘match’. On further inspection I discovered he’s been on match.com for at least a month…FFS. So I’m left wondering what the word ‘love’ actually means to him…What is it he wants from me? And why am I not angry? I guess I know the answer to that last one, I don’t love him anymore and it’s very definitely time to move on.


Suburbia.