It was 20 years and one day ago on the eve of the 8th anniversary of the engagement that led to a poor marriage, that my ex asked me for a divorce.
Neither of us had been very happy for a long time, but while I had been willing to work on the marriage, my ex had already thrown in the towel, made a decision, and would not be swayed. It didn't matter that we had two young children, she was never willing during our marriage to go to couples counselling,she would always turn silent rather than let out her feelings and try to work on 'us'.
To this day I think she was being unfair to the kids for doing so.
I also to this day think that she was being unfair to me for never telling me why, never explaining what was wrong, so that maybe I could move on with lessons learned.
My default was to protect my kids, but blame myself. Despite knowing that she pulled the plug, I knew that I was the reason that the marriage failed. It had to be me,.. I failed her, I failed my kids.
Thing is, I have barely matured one inch during these last 20 years.
And today, even though I had a decent day, got back from a good workout walk in the snow, I sit in my chair, alone, and think back 20 years and know one of the things that make Valentine's day such a load of bs to me.
Love is an action word. It ain't a feeling, a rush of endorphins, something you can fall into and out of.
I love my kids, my family, my friends. I try to do for them what I can without any expectation of quid pro quo, because I choose to love them.
So cupid, please take your f'n arrows and shove them where the sun don't shine. I hope anyone that cares to read this understands that I think that romance and romantic love is real, but it is also a choice.
Unfortunately, I also know that good choices are often the most difficult to make.
I down this next drink to all the lovers in the world.