An Epiphany

We are sitting at a 1950s style diner counter, and this time I know I am not dreaming. My gorgeous date is beside me, my beautiful daughter, looking famous in her brand-new burnt orange floral dress. We drool over the vegan menu, each item looking more tasty than the last, however there is nothing as delicious as the sweet smile and twinkle of delight that’s planted on this adorable woman’s face.

We are chatting about relationships and marriage. the patriarchy behind the institution, the curiousness of human nature and culture of needing a permit to have sex, share health insurance, and get royally fucked over when the inevitable end to said contract presents itself. And what else is it but a piece of paper that is truthy worth nothing? Having gone through the process twice myself, I can say that in either case it did not ensure love, fidelity, or longevity. What it did was put money in the pocket of some lawyers who were more than happy to process the request, and also make the process excessively arduous when I wanted to leave.

I mention that if anything, I might marry for money. That is, just money, nothing else. Leave me be to buy a little cabin, to live in with my dog, grow a garden around, and house my ever-burgeoning library. That both of the times I got married, I did so out of fear.

You know that moment when an epiphany happens? To me, it has a sound – like Mario stumbling on a mushroom or fire flower and >>ring-ring-ring<< it’s as though I’ve leveled up and am downloading information from the great beyond. Leading up to experiencing satori in the fall of 2018, I heard this sound seven different times, each one increasing my boldness as I awoke from my slumber. This was no different, although the effect was softer, and less jarring, something I knew deep inside and just never said aloud.

At this, I tell her, it was the first time I had ever had that realization. How insane that was. The first time I got married, I believed if I didn’t, I would have gotten kicked out of the house, earned my mother’s disapproval, and would have been a single mom with two kids. The second time, I believed there would be serious repercussions had I said no, regarding what might happen if I was alone and jobless in a state far away from my family, or that I would lose someone I was mercilessly in love with. And besides, we were already sharing a bookcase. And once your library is intermixed how can you possibly separate?

I was correct, of course. If I had said no in either situation, all of those things may have come to pass. In fact, everything I feared ended up happening, in one manner or another. When we are trying to control a situation we are in, it never can last. When we believe something, we either want it to be true or are afraid it is true. I was acting in out of fear both times instead of living in my truth.

I’ve developed a new truth. I love myself enough now to know that marriage is a road I no longer want to travel down, unless the price is right, they leave me alone, and it comes with a pre-nup. There’s a lot of things I’ll happily share with the right certain someone, but the last thing I will ever share again is my bookcase.