Today was Ali’s wedding to Mike. She was the most beautiful bride ever, surrounded by an extended family and many friends. So excited to begin her new life as a “wife”. A role that seems so foreign to me, and one that I didn’t realize how many girls still aspire to be a Mrs.
And so Ali leaves her job as a marketing assistant in our small company to being the next chapter of her life in Australia as a wife to Mike. I will miss her so much. She’s been a bright light in the dark and scary days of our software startup.
The priest spoke about woman being created as a partner for man, and how she was perfect as she was made from his flesh and blood. He reminded us that no other animals proved to make the man happy as a partner.
Hey why is it always about keeping the man happy? And I’ve known plenty of men that would pick their dog as a better partner than their wife.
As cynical as I am about love, I do still believe in the love ever after fairy tale, for better or for worse, richer and poorer, let no man divide…..And at the exact same moment I’m filled with the joy of love as Ali and Mike take their vows to become husband and wife a married lover from the past leaves a voicemail that we need to talk. Really? A test from a devil I don’t even believe in. The married man is the only man I’ve ever loved. I would die for him. I got a boob job for him. I’ve slept alone for thousands of nights because of him. And yet, I’m so tempted to run back into the fire of pain. Sick.
At the reception I pick what looks to be a promising table near the bar with a nice couple and plenty of open seats. Four hours later, we were still the only three at the table. I thought at first that it was me, an interloper in this extended Hispanic/Portuguese family. But no, the woman said it was because of her; she was crazy. I’d picked a schizophrenic/alcoholic couple to share the evening with.
She cried over her six lost babies, that never exsisted, and he took the opportunity to drink until he was as red as a beet.
The evening was a lesson in the power of love. He’s taken care of her for more than 20 years, adopted her child, supported her so she doesn’t have the stress of working, and will watch over her until he takes his final breath. She didn’t touch a drop of alcohol so she would be sober to drive him home. She worries obsessively about the salt he consumes. He translates for her, whispering to me the parts of her story that are not true.
Without each other, these two would be lost. That’s love.