I didn’t see her at the wedding ceremony. And yes, I did look—as inconspicuously as possible. I told myself she couldn’t bear to witness me renew vows with my wife of 20 years. Perhaps that was wishful thinking. Not that I wish her pain. I don’t. But I wish she shared my regret: that I had told her in high school how I felt about her, that she had promised me for better or for worse, that she was the one I had spent my life with and raised three children with—but the truth is that pain was all my own. Ever since we reconnected through the wonder of Facebook—and she saw my status—she made it very clear how far we would go, and no farther. She’s respectable like that. An honorable woman. So rare. For the life of me, I don’t understand how she’s remained single all these years. Wait. I take that back. I understand completely. Men are idiots. If we were better, we wouldn’t let the good ones intimidate us. That’s not a slam against my wife. She is a good woman, but I was “good enough” for her; she never pushed me to become better. Wait. Maybe my regret has nothing to do with the woman I chose but the fact that I’m not a better man. I’ve made my wife my scapegoat. I’ve turned my choices into excuses. Damn. What is the truth here? I’m a 38-year-old Marine, husband, father of three and I’m still crushing on the girl I was too shy to talk to in high school. Pussy. I can’t keep looking back like this. I need to focus on my wife, my future. I need to act like the grown man I am. I need to show up.
April 11, 2013
