I knew that I would marry my future ex-husband on the first date. He was handsome, with southern charm. He opened doors and laughed at my corny jokes. He had me wrapped around his finger from day one.
We did get married and were were happy for many years. Our daughter was born and we both fell in love all over again, with her and with each other. We got along well and we made a great team. But we were both young and didn’t have a clue who we were or who we were going to be.
One day he fell out of love. Maybe we both did.
Things changed overnight, at least it felt like overnight, but in reality it didn’t happen that fast. A chasm developed between us, slowly or suddenly… I really can’t remember.
We talked less and argued more.
Made love less and created more distance.
Ignored our needs and nitpicked our flaws.
He stayed out late and I occupied myself with other things. We said only what needed to be said. There was no anger, not really, just painful indifference.
Our anniversary that last year was perfect. I enjoyed him. He enjoyed me. It felt like we hadn’t seen one another in a very long time. Like we were saying “hello” all over again.
Four months later we said farewell.
I learned a lot in that relationship. I experienced myself. I grew. I shrunk. I was born. I died. I changed. I drifted. I stretched. I overcame.
It’s been a very long time and the scars still exist, once tender and bruised, they are now smooth and cool to the touch.
I still believe in love, very much. It’s a beautiful thing. But the truth is…
Love hurts sometimes.
This post is part of the “This is 40″ blog series.