During one of those nights when I was enjoying my glass of wine with my friends, this question came up, “All said and done, would you marry your husband again?”. And to share the absolute truth, no one had a clear answer to that; no one said a clear “Yes,” and of course, not a clear “No” (even if it was in their heads) was hard to say either. Bummer. I am spending day in and day out with this person, and I am not even sure if I want to do it all over again.
So that was when we changed topics and went on with the evening, but the question stayed in my head. The following day, while my husband slept, I stared at him to find an answer (as if sleeping him could answer; the awake him rarely has answers). Days passed by, but the question stayed. I needed to find ways to answer this, I thought of making a Pros-Cons list, chart what I like about him, list his habits that make me sick in the stomach. All I wanted to know was whether, if given a chance, I would like to marry him again. Keep aside marriage; do I want to know him again? Do I want him to be a part of my life?
Tough;
Tough;
Tough;
As any millennial would, I went on to Google to find an answer. Like everything else, it was as if Google would also know what I wanted and how I felt. According to a survey (American-based; well, these guys conduct a lot of surveys, even silly ones), I found that one out of three couples wouldn’t marry their respective spouses. Whoopie, that’s huge for anyone to accept.
But then I realized there are different phases of married life; if this question had been asked me in the initial four years of my marriage, my answer without any hesitation would have been, “Of course, the question itself is offensive.” Well, between those 4 and 8 years and after a child, ask the question again and get banged in the head, dragging the husband along. And now, almost after a decade of marriage, “Well, it’s not that bad, but I could do without it too.”
And here I am, unsure if this is a good thing. Am I saying there is nothing left in this relationship, that there is nothing we have to offer to each other, that this relationship is not bringing any joy? And then the word joy sparked a new way. I decided to try the Marie Kondo method for this. I put the photograph of my husband to my heart and asked if it sparked any joy. The picture sure didn’t, but the memories of the person did.
But you can’t have Marie Kondo relationships or people, right? They say a relationship’s net effect should be positive, but I wonder how you estimate that.
So how do you decide? Do you go by the first voice in your head, which in most cases would be a “big NO, definitely not marrying the same person,” or do you weigh down your options and think about what this relationship has meant or still means to you? Is the relationship more significant than the person?
Am I still confusing, perhaps I am. But my headspace was still chaotic.
So, my approach was to stare at him day in and day out, find that spark of joy, and find that reason to marry him all over again. But this happened: He forgot to close the almirah door for three consecutive days, pay the electricity bill, and get our daughter to finish her homework. And there I was, trying to make sense of my reasons.
Perhaps the struggle is mine, and I have no qualms about putting myself first,
I am in this relationship because it works for me very weirdly.
We are both flawed human beings. We love each other, support each other, and are committed to each other. And yet, there are days when we can’t stand the sight of each other.
Walking out of a marriage that does not work for you or feels right for you is nothing wrong. Marriages are not always happy; yes, they require a lot of effort. And so the experience differs from person to person.
I don’t believe in the concept of “soulmates” nor any of the magical elements of couple-dom, and I don’t think there’s a specific “right person” for everyone. For everyone, there must indeed have been thousands of spouses we could have made it work with… if we had resolved to “make it work.” And that’s not all just a labor, but a comfort when you get the security of knowing you can be kind and be done kindly too.
After much deliberation, I concluded that I would not marry again because it was not so much the person but the concept of marriage that I would not do again. Well, the conclusion to my story is that I wouldn’t marry him again. Well, I won’t marry again; I would try being alone. Perhaps it is not the person as much as the relationships. If I had to marry again, I would choose the same guy. Training this took a lot of effort, so I’m not doing it again!