In a short period of time, I was informed of four divorces. I knew or knew of each of the ex-wives; all are capable, lovely, and fabulous. Additionally, all were closer to 30 than to 20 when they wed.
I have nursed this fantasy that when a woman remains single for longer than most (such as myself), she does so from a place of security and knowledge. Security that she will not allow busha or worry to push her into a bad choice, and knowledge of herself and what she really needs in a spouse.
That's why I truly rejoiced with these women when I heard of their engagements; they must have found their one-and-only! An older single cannot help but to learn while questing. Over time, and with experience, she begins to understand herself as well; what she can tolerate, what she prioritizes.
But these four, all confident, charming, and fantastic, were taken in. Their husbands were not the princes I expected them to marry, not fit to buff their shoes. What it must feel like when one waits and waits and waits, then exults that her searching days are over, only to be shoved through the revolving door to start again, broken-hearted?
I don't know what went wrong. I don't know if it could have been avoided. Yet I have now this fear of becoming . . . tired, compromising from sheer exhaustion. It's not that I despair; I don't. Yet I just want to be done. Like being stuck in traffic on an endless highway, the outlet mall a distant speck in the distance.
Was that it? Did they just want it to be over? Were they being pressured by nervous family? Were the "Penina"s of their circle being callous with stories of their husbands and children? Was the emotional roller coaster of shidduch date, effort, then disappointment too much?
Did they just throw in the towel?
Maybe that is why I am more adamant than ever when an undesirable is suggested. I say no, remaining firm in my no, because I know myself. I could give in even when I know I shouldn't, even when my gut screams no freakin' way! I don't want to be tempted to make a wrong yet simple move for the wrong reasons.
I don't want to marry just because I'm weary. That's not why I got into this stupid dating game to begin with. When I was younger, it was because that's what everyone does; now, I really want to find a partner in life. A partner. Someone who sees me, and I see him.
Not through a fog of fatigue, but with the clarity of choice.
Not through a fog of fatigue, but with the clarity of choice.
1 comment:
Maybe our yeshivot should spend more time teaching teenage Jewish boys: derech eretz, chesed, midot tovot, silence, and how-to-be-a-good-husband, even if it means spending less time on the intricacies of Talmudic logic [which is very noble, but of little practical use in daily life]?
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