“With all due respect, you really don’t know that. The only two people who know whether a marriage is happy are the people in it. Sometimes even they don’t know. I sure as hell had no idea mine was going to blow up in my face.”
“Okay maybe you’re right. But they seem happy. Lots of married people I know seem happy. Do you really think all those guys are pretending? That’s bullshit.”
He wipes a hand over his face. “They just know they have to go along with it. Some women are marriage types and won’t accept anything less. So they suck it up.”
His words hit me like a truck. Is that what he thinks? That I’m not the marriage type?
“So what does that make me, huh? One of those women who is willing to accept less?”
The room is completely silent as we stare at each other. Finally I turn away.
“Anya, wait. You’re twisting my words all around. That’s not what I was saying at all.”
“I have to get back to work.”
He looks like he wants to say something else but finally nods. “Right. I’ll see you tonight.”
Without responding, I walk out of his office making sure I have a calm, professional look on my face. When I get back to my office, I sit in my chair and start typing randomly on my computer. Hopefully I look busy enough that no one bothers me but I’m not seeing anything on my screen. Instead my mind is replaying that conversation over and over.
Law thinks that all men only get married because they have to. Worse, he doesn’t even see me as being one of the women worthy of this great sacrifice. There’s no more pretending that eventually he’ll want the same things that I do or that after he heals from his divorce he’ll turn into the future husband of my dreams.
When I was younger, I always assumed I’d be married before I’m thirty. In all fairness, back then thirty seemed so far away. But it’s almost here.
I can’t put my head in the sand on this one.
The last two years I’ve been in some kind of la la land and it’s time I wake the hell up. Law can’t give me what I want and he never will. So I’m faced with a decision.
Continue with the status quo.
Or try something different.
We don’t switch lives. We switch methods. I’ll do things the Anya way. You do things the Ariana wa
y. We both get what we want.
Biting my lip, I pull my phone from my purse. If I start down this road, there’s no turning back. Ariana is like a bulldog with a bone when she gets an idea. So I have to be sure before I pull the pin on this grenade. Honestly, I’m not even sure what she meant by her do things the Ariana way comment but whatever her plan is, it’s sure to be aggressive, outrageous and pretty much batshit crazy.
Not that anything else has worked.
Milo and Mya walk by then. She’s gesticulating wildly as she talks and he’s staring down at her adoringly, like he’s savoring every word.
That’s what I want.
So I open up a new text message to Ariana.
ANYA – Remember our convo at the wedding?
ARIANA – Refresh my memory.
I roll my eyes. Clearly it wasn’t that revolutionary to her if she doesn’t even remember.
ANYA – The switching methods plan?
ARIANA – Let me guess, your man is acting up?
ANYA – Something like that. Are you still up for it?
ARIANA – I’m always up for anything. I’m off today so come by after work. I have a feeling we need to act fast before you lose your nerve.