A Husband with a Side of Kids, Please — Nonfiction
I just turned thirty-five. At my age, I like to reflect.
So, I’ve been reflecting on how I’m getting really really smart as I’ve aged. I’ve gotten really smart at not only making dumb decisions but also at justifying and feeling great about my dumb decisions.
I can prove it.
I am thirty-five.
And I’ve already been married.
Twice.
Most of my friends are single. Or in the process of becoming single.
They ask me: What is your secret? How did two manage to find two husbands when we can’t even find one? Dumb decisions.
In their defense, they have a lot more to lose in a divorce. They are rich. They will probably lose more in divorce than I ever had to pay in therapist fees. And the only reason I even had to go to therapy was for my mother. I needed a therapist to help me help my mom deal with my divorce. She is an Indian mom, so you can’t blame her. You can’t blame her. I can. And I do.
So, no I am not rich. And I do not get alimony.
I don’t even have kids (!!!). And not for lack of trying.
On the bright side, TikTok recently informed me that my husband and I are a pop culture phenomenon. We are DINKs, which stands for “dual income no kids” couples. Or at least we were a pop culture phenomenon before TikTok made brat summer the next cool thing.
So, I do not have children. Ten years being married. Two marriages. To an Indian and an American guy. At two different points in time (if that wasn’t obvious). I understand having trouble conceiving. I do. But to have married an Indian guy and not have made babies. They say a few hundred babies are born every second in India. What the heck were we doing?
Thirty-five. Married twice. Nothing to show for it. Sure, I’ve been accumulating college degrees and debt. But no kids.
Not only do I not have my own children but I didn’t even think to adopt a kid earlier in life. By now, I could have raised an international army of kids from Cambodia, Ethiopia, and Vietnam. And no, I am not listing random places. That’s where Brad and Angelina got their kids.
My best bet is probably to adopt a child from India. If you haven’t already guessed, I grew up there.
I recently started researching the adoption process. Ironic but lucky for me: It is easier to adopt a kid from India if you are married to a U.S. citizen than if I was still married to my Indian ex-husband. Legally. It’s like Indians trust Americans more with their own kids. Here, take one more. Adopt one, get one free. Take them all.
What I do have through these years is accumulated experience. That counts for something, right? Everyone seems to be hiring a coach or becoming one these days.
So, I’ll leave you with some tried-and-tested marriage advice.
My best advice to you is:
Invest in your marriage.
Buy a pair of headphones.
If you cannot hear them, you cannot argue. Or say dumb stuff you’ll regret.
Here’s a true story. You can google it. A man from Connecticut pretended to be deaf his entire life and for his entire marriage of 62 years. That was basically my dad when I was growing up. Genius.
In all seriousness, my parents are going on their 36th anniversary. Yes, I’m their honeymoon baby. Ironic. Apparently, my husband and I even missed that memo. The only thing we brought back from our honeymoon was a suitcase full of dirty laundry.
But for now, I’m living each day proud of making dumb decisions by myself and sometimes with my (second) better half. They say the third time is a charm. I hope I don’t have to find out!
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Thank you Erica L Soerensen for the prompt to contribute to your collection and dabble in non-fiction: https://medium.com/admiring-multipotentiality/write-for-us-admiring-multipotentiality-16cac9f2fa8c
