Marriage

                “So, do you think we should break up?” I don’t want to say the words, but they slip out of my mouth anyway.

                “I just don’t see myself getting married,” he says.  “I used to, but I gave that dream up.”

                “Why?” I know I sound desperate.  I am.

                “I just don’t think I need it to be happy.”

***

                My parents aren’t exactly what you would call happy.  My dad has a porn addiction.  He’s been working on it their entire marriage, but every single time he slips up, my mom takes it personally and goes into her downward spiral of self-blame and depression.  I didn’t know any of this until my sister told me a couple months after my mission, but it’s happened about four times a year since they were married.  She didn’t know until after the temple sealing was done. 

                It’s not just the porn addiction either.  They see the world in totally different ways.  When my mom found out I was gay she took it upon herself to ‘fix’ me.  It was her job to talk it out and to somehow convince me that I wanted to be Mormon more than I wanted to be gay.  When my dad found out, he told me he would love me no matter what, and hugged me.  My mom blames him, because he’s ‘encouraging’ me to be gay.

                It’s not that I want my parents to get divorced.  I love having parents that are together, it makes things less complicated.  I don’t want step-siblings or step-parents.  I don’t want to have to choose which parent to visit; I don’t want to have to have awkward moments at my future wedding.  I’ll admit that’s selfish, but they can be happy sometimes

***

                “I’m getting so tired of kissing Gary,” my sister says.

                She and I are alone in my car on a weekend road trip.  Both of us just need to get the hell out of Cache Valley. 

                “Why?” I ask.

                “After ten years of marriage, it just feels expected,” she replies.  “I miss when it was romantic.”

***

                I shouldn’t want to get married.  All I hear about it is that it takes so much work.  I’ve watched my sister and her husband from the point where they were that newlywed couple, who you were embarrassed to be seen with in public, to the point where some days I wonder if they’ll make it.  I’m pretty sure he cheated on her a few years ago.  It’s never really been said directly, but my mom has only now started to like him again, and I remember the summer when my sister wouldn’t even talk to her husband, because he had hurt her so deeply.

                Between my sister’s marriage and my parents’ marriage, I’m pretty terrified that Andersons are not meant to get married.

                I can’t get over it though.  I know it takes work, I know sometimes even with work the marriage itself just doesn’t work.  I get it; I understand why I’m supposed to be cynical and anti-marriage.  I know why I’m supposed to love my life as a bachelor.  But I can’t.  I try, and I’ll admit that I have a damn good life as the single man that I am.

                But I imagine waking up next to a man that I love, ever single morning.  I imagine having someone who is my go to when the world falls down around me.  I imagine being able to fall into his arms, and remember that no matter what I have him.  I imagine being that pillar for someone else, being able to hold him in my arms, to wipe away his tears.  I imagine raising children together, and making a thousand mistakes along the way, but having someone there to help me be a better dad than I could be alone.

                Maybe Andersons aren’t meant to get married. But then again, maybe we’re just stubborn enough that we are.