One wedding and a divorce

Tomorrow is my wedding anniversary. I got married when I was 22, I'm 33 now, I'll let you do the math.

Boy, was I stressed out. We'd planned the event for a whole year. I had friends coming from all of France, and the U.S. as well. We rented a castle, yes, a real castle, all white and beautiful, with a huge park, a great caterer and an awful D.J. We had trusted the caterer with the guy, he seemed alright, having asked us to make a list of the songs we absolutely hated and the ones we wanted.

I had asked for jazz during dinner, and then cool things to dance after that. The idiot actually played Billy freaking Joel and couldn't stop talking as we started eating. It felt like the 80's. I was so mad I think the main thing my guests remembered was me lifting my dress, looking berated, running to the man and swearing I was going to shoot him dead if he didn't stop instantly and played the music we had asked for. He looked really scared, but then again, I looked really scary.

It was my dream, you see. I wanted to be a princess, in a castle, wear a beautiful dress and have everyone oohing and aahing when they saw me. I remember going upstairs in the middle of the evening, looking out the window and thinking, there, it's real, and I won't mess it up like my parents did. At the time, I thought holding a marriage together was just a matter of will./

Eleven years later, here I sit, on my terrace, in Paris, typing like a madwoman on a computer, with no husband to share the memories with. I messed it up. It just went wrong. And I was the one to make the decision. I think I made the right choice, even back then. I married the right guy, at the time. We had two wonderful kids, we were happy.

When I look back at the ceremony, at the party, I wish I could time travel and tell that young woman to enjoy it while it lasts. Tomorrow will be a tough day. I'd like to spend it crying, curled up in bed. But I have two children, so I'll take them to the Tuileries, we'll go take a ride on the donkeys, to the playground, and we'll get ice cream on the way back. I haven't had the chance to cry much, lately, except for a very drunken night on my great friend's shoulder. I cried buckets, I think I let out all I had in me. I'll just hold the tears back, tomorrow. And wait for the next day.

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Manu said...

Lots of hugs for tomorrow.

Looking for Blue Sky said...

So sorry this is hard for you, but it will get easier as time goes by; it has for me. Hope you get through the day ok.

Anonymous said...

I've read this essay twice, and I'm thinking of you. I hope you get time to cry. I think it's okay to cry in front of your children. Don't try to hide it.

Marianne said...

@Manu: Thank you, sweetie. I'd much rather you gave them to me for real when we meet ;)
@looking for blus sky: Thanks, it always help to see that others survive this. It was really hard yesterday, some days it's just OK. Really, it was my decision. But I have trouble making peace with it, even though I know it's the right thing to do. Weird, huh?
@Erin: Thank you for your thoughts. I didn't get time to cry, no. But I don't cry much, anyway. Except when I'm drunk and I actually wail. I'm not sure it's OK to cry in front of my kids, though. It's my business, I made the decision, I'm the adult. I should cope. They're so small, you know.

Anonymous said...

Oh Marianne. A sad but very brave post.


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