I have to disagree with the "of course" part of the above statements. (Including my own.) It's not obvious that the person one is married to is the love of one's life. I know plenty of married people who wouldn't agree with it. If you consider your current spouse to be the love of your life, you should feel very, very lucky. As I do.
I mean, I love my mudd-dude, but does he try to rub himself into my shoe when I visit? Does he curl up on me the minute I sit down and refuse to leave until I dump him on the floor? Does he follow me out to the mailbox or down to the river or to the car, hoping for an adventure? Does he leave me presents of decapitated birds or rats? Does he purr and stretch so winningly when I rub his face or belly?
hadjiboy: don't worry, you'll find her. I always believed in the soul-mate thing, but when I was a young man, I sometimes worried that my soulmate was sitting in an igloo cooking blubber somewhere or something and that I'd never run into her. It's all a matter of keeping your eyes and heart open to the possibilities of things.
My and Mrs. Pax' divorce will be final two weeks from today, and probably I'll have to go from Ohio to South Carolina to wear a suit and be glared at by a family-court judge to mark the occasion.
We were married in 1990 and adopted Pax Jr. in 1995; we separated nearly three years ago. I still love her a little, but I don't like her all that much. Plenty of people feel she treated me like $hit and is playing passive-aggressive control games with our son now that she failed with me. I'm trying not to take any of this personally; I'd rather concentrate on rebuilding a life apart.
There was somebody in 1985 about whom I've wondered ever since if I could've built a life with. We were infatuated with each other yet mostly kept our hands to ourselves -- but she'd been through a horrific marriage and was dealing with a lifetime of schizophrenia. She had a beautiful soul, though, from the glimpses of it I got, and I've never been able to forget her. I saw her briefly in 1997 and the basic friendship was still pretty much there, although I think she was hurt that I'd balked at my opportunity to fan the sparks into flames. (Mary K., I'm still very fond of the ground you walk on.)
My best friend in high school is the Enduring Crush of my Life. I keep hoping I'll run into him (I know where he lives, although I don't get out that way very often and he did not respond to my one letter three years ago) and he'll be happy to see me and I'll finally find out *why* he didn't show up that one time (in the Age Before CellPhones) I waited at the airport for him for eight hours and he was never there.
I can still think of things he said to me or things we did together and feel just as happy and just as at the beginning of things as I was when I was 16. I'd just like to be in the room with him one more time and say that to his face, even though I imagine we wouldn't have much to say to each other beyond that, each of us having lived our entire lives in the interim.
mgl, thanks; we divorced Sandlappers gotta watch out for one another!
That's about what I figgered, but I'll run this Notice of Motion by a lawyerly friend o' mine up here to see if she salutes or scowls. I wasn't relishing putting 1000 miles (thru mountains) on the Sentra, knowing I probably wouldn't get much face time with Pax Jr. (Plus the job sitch is still up in the air -- no interviews with managers yet, just more recruiters -- argggh!)
Apart from seeing my son, the only reason to show up would be for administrivia: My FiDec is going to be overtaken by events shortly. Plus I'm accused of being mentally ill (I'd attempted suicide subsequent to separating), and I would like to submit something from my therapist that says, "eeeehhhh, a little guilt here, a little social phobia there, but basically he's fine." Really, though, that'd be more of an exercise in defending my pride in front of strangers, and who needs it? The administrivia could probably be handled thru the fambly court system down there. There's nothing much to contest, and there ain't no makin' this girl happy nohow.
For real unconditional love, it's tough to be a Siamese cat. I adopted Mehitabel as an abused kitten in 1988 and buried her in 2003, and after the first six weeks we were together, I couldn't get that damn furrygirl outta my lap for love nor money!
My wife, and I am coming to see that more and more. Honestly, I felt that I *settled* when I got together with her but the marriage has lasted, albeit with a 2.5 year intermission in there along the way. I hope that one of us dies in the other's arms, a good long time from now.
There are several other women that I have loved deeply, whom I would have fallen in love/committed to/gone to bed with/etcetc if they'd been into it. But they weren't.
PaxDigita, I got divorced in Virginia. I didn't have to go to the final court hearing, but I did, since it would have seemed strange to me to miss it. My wife did the official filing (though it was a mutual decision), so she had to be there with the lawyer and a witness. The judge handled all the administrivia through them, then turned to me and asked if I had anything to add. I didn't, but that would have been my chance, I suppose. I needed that feeling of closure, I guess, though the closure really came that afternoon, when I threw my ring into the Potomac.
I know how lucky I am: my partner, D, is the love of my life.
A bonus: because we met in our 30s, we've both know how lucky we are to have this.
I never knew love like this existed: it's strong and powerful, but without the undertone of panic or anxiety that I've always felt in my previous relationships. It's intense enough to saturate every aspect of my life, but without the attendant drama that highly charged relationships have always had.
When we disagree, we work it out rationally, and with the sense that we're a team. Neither of us ever seems to prize being right over being reasonable, and we resolve conflicts without escalating them.
An evening lying around reading is usually punctuated by one of us out of the blue saying "I'm so happy with you." We're both still a bit dazed by it, because we each have had such loud, livid heartache in the past.
Geez, it sounds dull, but if you could see how we coo and croon to each other, you'd know it's only boring for everyone around us. Well, boring or nauseating.
If you had asked me this a few years ago, I would have told you that my late partner, with whom I had an intense, complicated, and volatile relationship, was the love of my life if ever I had one. I still miss him and love him, and the realization brought me a bucketful of guilt, but the connection D and I have is unparalleled in my life.
Mr. V. Without question. Whenever I hear Carly Simon's song "The Love of My Life" I think of him. We met in our thirties, both having been married before, both having kids. There are many times when I can't wait for the kids to be grown, so it's just us, because I just like being with him. We have our differences, sure, but I like that because I like a passionate, lively lifestyle, and I love him with all my heart.
Thx for supportive there-I-wuz, mrmoonpie. Ours is essentially mutual too. The only thing in the Notice of Motion I would contest is the "mental illness" thing; my therapist actually chuckled and shook her head sadly when I showed her. Perhaps when Pax Jr. is older, less draconian visitation arrangements can be made, but for now, if he's OK with this and she wants it, I'll hold my peace.
Don't think I'll chuck the wedding band in any bodies of water, though. It'll continue living on my keyring for now. Maybe Pax Jr. will want to take it and see if he can break the hoodoo a few years on. Or maybe I'll go climb Mt. Doom and shot-put the sucker. I-77 goes right thru Mordor, right?