Marrying Well

All Southern girls are taught from an early age that the most important thing in life is to marry well.  It was often said that girls in the South went to college to earn their M.R.S. degree.  You could say that I have fulfilled my ancestors expectations...I married well.  My hubby is a good provider, successful businessman and farmer, and we live a comfortable, good life.  In short, I have lived the Southern girl's dream.

The truth of the matter is that marriage is a crap shoot.  It's really just a roll of the dice as to whether the good looking guy you have your eye on will turn out to be a man to last a lifetime with or not.  There aren't any guarantees that you'll end up with a happy life of wedded bliss and wealth, or just misery and hard times.  Most likely, your life will be a blend of both.  It's how you manage those times and what you do with your life that determine if you "married well". 

After forty-four years I can attest that nothing about staying married is simple.  There are always times when you really wish you could just chuck it and start over.  Like the miserable time early in our marriage when I had suffered the miscarriage of our first child.  I was despondent and frustrated that hubby couldn't seem to appreciate my heartbreak.  I was too young to realize that no man can appreciate the feeling of bonding that every woman feels the moment she realizes she is carrying a child.  He was bound up in working full time and farming at night and just couldn't figure out why I didn't just get on with my life. 

Everything came to a head when we quarreled once again, over what I have no idea, and I just decided that I didn't want to do this any more. He slammed out of the house to go feed the cattle and I threw myself on the bed to cry some more.  In frustration I decided I would go where someone appreciated my pain...I would go home.  So I packed a bag, threw it in the truck and took off for the 2 1/2 hour trip to my dad's.  (I don't remember making the conscious decision, but taking hubby's new truck probably hurt him more than my leaving!)  I drove with a feeling of righteous indignation imagining how angry and supportive my family would be over my shabby treatment.

I pulled into the driveway and carried my bag into the door.  My dad looked up from his newspaper and frowned, "What have you done to Bob now?" he exclaimed.  Realizing that I wasn't going to get the welcome I expected, I muttered, "Well, I've come home."  "That's a fine thing to do!  Go call him right now and tell him you'll be back tomorrow!" 

I decided right then and there that whatever the problems, I'd solve them in my own house.  If I've got to live with an angry man I'd sure rather it was my husband not my father.   After all, after a fight with your hubby, you can always make up!!