Daniel has been married before.
This annoys me. Why does this annoy me, you ask? Because I’m a neurotic crazy person. Duh.
Honestly, I’m not even entirely sure why it annoys me. I have dated guys before who had been married in previous lives and it never bothered me. In fact, I really couldn’t have cared less. Let’s be realistic, by the time a person gets to 32, the odds of stumbling across someone with whom you’re compatible, and either, A.) isn’t married or B.) hasn’t ever been married, are rather slim.
And it’s not like Daniel’s previous role as a husband is a fact he’s tried to hide from me. It doesn’t make me sad or jealous or angry…just…annoyed. Irrationally so? Yes of course, but that’s not the issue.
The issue, ladies and gentlemen, is that my boyfriend had a big ole traditional churchy wedding with groomsmen and flower arrangements and tuxedos and the walking down the aisle bit…and all the hoopla associated with weddings, without me. And dammit, it’s annoying.
But here’s the really stupid thing: I’m not even envious of the actual wedding. Nope. In fact I hate weddings. Don’t ever want one. Never have. Also, never been a big fan of marriage in general. Single women usually have much more interesting lives than married women, don't they? Heh. So, seriously, what’s the deal? Why does this annoy me?
Unless a person is like 16 years old, there’s bound to be some relationship history attached to a person. It’s inevitable, right? Hell, I have my own history. Granted, it doesn’t include something as monumentally important as marriage, but still. Hmm…maybe that’s my beef – the enormous weight of it. A wedding and the marriage that goes with it is a BIG FUCKING DEAL. A major, life-altering experience and he went ahead and made a decision like that without consulting me first.
So what if he didn’t even know me back then!
So what if I lived 3 states away!
So what if I wasn’t even driving yet!
He’s had that experience. Been there. Done that. And I haven’t.
And, yes, there are things that I've done that he hasn't, but nothing so incredibly important...nothing so weighty...nothing so once-in-a-lifetime.
Maybe I should go to Vegas for a weekend and get married and divorced with some sad sap just so I can say, “Ha! See? I’ve been there and done that too. So there!” Meh. Maybe not.