Thursday, June 3, 2010
Why did I do?
“Why did we get married?” She asked, her eyes welling with tears as we idled in the grocery store parking lot. “Were we just caught up in the emotion of it?”
“Yeah, maybe. I think so.”
“It’s just that the feeling is gone now,” she continued, looking up and away as if to access a memory that had long since passed.
“Well, I have gained a lot of weight,” I offered.
“Yeah.” She smiled.
“Yeah.” I looked down at my protruding belly. More silence. I slid the car into park and took my foot off the brake.
“But what if we were wrong? We don't like the same things. Do you think we were supposed to get married?” Her eyes were searching mine.
“Yes, but maybe not as soon as we did.” My stomach tightened as I recalled my antics; pushing our relationship at a breakneck pace while friends and family tried to keep up.
“But we’re both so good at getting our own way…” she trailed off, wondering if we’d managed to trick God.
“It’s harder now that we’re stuck together, huh?” We both snickered as we imagined me on the couch and her at the beach for the next fifty years.
“I thought we’d enjoy doing our own thing,” she sounded confused, “but I want to be with you sometimes too!”
“Well, I am realizing that I love myself more than I love you.” It came out slow, like it was sinking in word by word.
“Yeah,” she slowly agreed, “I love myself more than you too.” We both sat very still and let our abject selfishness sink in. I imagine we both were relieved to have said it, perplexed that it might actually be true, and uncomfortable with resigning ourselves to it.
“I really like you though.” I whispered. “I mean, I enjoy you. And if I’m going to learn how to be more loving and less selfish you’re the one I want to learn with.”