People who say they’ve never thought divorce was the only option are fucking liars.

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Modern marriage is easy to end. Modern marriage is expected to fail. The dissolution of the modern marriage is a socially acceptable reality that people have become so accustomed to that there is now an expectation afloat in the collective subconscious that every wedding is a divorce waiting to happen. Not getting divorced is now as weird and seemingly dysfunctional in the modern mind as getting divorced was back in the 1960’s.

In light of this new reality, I hold the firm opinion that anyone under the age of seventy who says they’ve never thought divorce was the only possible solution to their marital troubles, ever, is a fucking liar, and a raging asshole who probably eats kittens and spits on old ladies.

There. I said it.

You know you all were thinking it. And I fucking said it.

Divorce is the new marriage, man. We get together, we rub uglies until we make some people, and then we do the normal well-adjusted thing and break up to raise them. That’s how it’s done in America now.

Fighting to stay together when you’re 1000% done, is often treated like a kind of mental illness that can only be corrected with an inpatient visit and some Thorazine.

And this is wrong.

Anyone who has built something will tell you that lumber is useless if you never cut the logs. Lumps of iron don’t hold boards fast. Creation of the most positive variety still involves some level destruction.

In a marriage, the thing getting broken to bits is your individuality. You stop being a person and become a couple. You figure out how to function as if the thoughts and experiences of the person to which you are wed are just like your own. Quid pro quo thinking has no place here. There is no division of labor, or money, or effort. You two, working together, make it all possible.

The level of intimacy that marriage involves defies verbal explanation. Attempting to do so anyway will make one sound like a babbling mental patient. What is required is so specific to the couple in question that even well-informed advice from a wise trusted source will be utterly wrong more than it will be right.

Marriage is an exclusive union between two people. It is not a social event.

Whoever says otherwise is trying to sell you something.

My hubs and I have fought with each other like two wolverines stuck in an icebox for the past two weeks. We have both contemplated throwing in the towel, for our own sake, for each other, for the children. We have terrorized each other, scarred our children, scandalized our neighbors, and irrevocably altered the opinions held of us by some mutual acquaintances. Wherever the books and counselors have said not to go, we have not only gone, but have camped out for a few days.

He’s gotten in my face and put his hands on me.

I’ve gotten in his face and put my hands on him.

We’ve gone toe to toe in a battle of wills that has escalated to proportions so vast as to begrudgingly inspire awe in onlookers.

Because we are still here. Together.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I don’t. I know that my pride is a weapon of deadly accuracy or cruel blunted force depending on my whims. I know that for every injury he’s given me, I have made him pay for it in pounds of flesh. I know that when someone should have been the mature responsible adult and backed off, I have screamed, “one, two, three, not it!” before kicking him in the balls. I know that it’s not just him who has the problem, it’s also me who has the problem.

When the dust settles, something amazing will be standing where all this destruction has occurred. This is the way of all things.

Marriage is like playing chicken with you and him against the expectations of the entire world. Even if you don’t flinch, you’re gonna fuckin’ think about it.

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