choice

The thing is, I could have loved him forever.
I WOULD have loved him forever.

Sure, he's selfish and condescending and flaky and lacks motivation. I really dislike those things about him, but I always looked at them as the trade-off. You know, the worse part of "for better or worse".What it came down to was that I loved him, and he loved me, and that's all that really mattered.

I found myself making excuses for him a lot. For his rudeness to others, for his indifference to people, for his intolerance of other people's children. He always fell asleep on the Thameses couch when we'd go to their house for dinner. Rude. He slept through a whole weekend at the beach with the Lamberts, because it was his vacation. Nevermind that the other 9 people in the house wanted to DO things, as it was also our vacation. He always slept at my parents' house, too. Even when we'd be having serious conversations about the impending divorce back in the spring, he'd fall asleep sitting there talking. I realize now that his sleepiness is a coping mechanism for when he doesn't want to do something. Selfish. Rude. It embarrassed me. I nagged him about it, which surely didn't help. But I loved him anyway.

He disliked being with his own extended family, too. I once asked his sister to sing in our wedding. Darren blew a gasket and said he would not allow it. I made him promise not to make me be the one to tell her. He said he'd talk to her. I found out a few years ago that he never did. I also recently heard that the family thinks I have pulled him away from them, that I avoid being with them. The opposite is true. If I hadn't made the commitments and phone calls and arrangements and hosted many of the get-togethers, we'd have never seen them. And he would've been okay with that. The one year I didn't hound him about calling his parents on their birthdays, he didn't call them. There was hell to pay. His mom's heart was broken, and his dad ripped him a new one. He didn't blame me, but I felt terrible. I love his family.

I'd always dreamed of renewing our vows on our 10th anniversary. When that time came, we were busy having babies and had no money. So we said, "We'll do it on our 20th." As our 20th approached and I brought up the subject, he pooed-pooed the idea in such a hurtful way that I didn't bring it up again. He had a way of shutting me right down. He knew exactly how to belittle me, make me feel inferior, make me feel silly and foolish and even stupid. But I loved him anyway. I always loved him.

I have always had a mouth on me. I wasn't a demure, whipped, sad little wife. I spat venom on him when he treated me like a child. I cried angry tears when he would shut down and refuse to engage. I can't hide my emotions - they kinda just hang out on my sleeve for all to see. And in general, I don't hold back words. Well, I didn't use to. Nowadays, I've become quite skilled at not saying anything. It has probably saved me a lot of heartache, to tell you the truth. Because Darren always hated that I argued and didn't back down from his bullying. He thought it was disrespectful. And I can acknowledge that indeed, it was. I meant to disrespect him a lot of times. I felt that respect should be earned, and much of the time, I didn't respect him. But I loved him. I always loved him.

I always told him that if he ever cheated on me, I'd be GONE. Then he cheated on me. And I didn't run. I didn't break completely. I fought for our marriage. Because I loved him.

When he grew distant again last year, and began treating me as though my very presence made him ill, I bristled. I'd been down this road, after all, and last time it led to another woman. And my bristling led to resentment on both our parts. When he complained of his leg hurting, I blew him off. To be fair, he has always been a huge, huge baby. There's the so-called "man cold", and then there's the Darren Cold. I really thought his hurt leg was nothing, based on his track record of over-reacting. Turns out, he really was injured. I will always wonder if my lack of concern in the beginning of that injury pushed him over the edge.

But I always loved him.
And I always would have.
I put up with a lot of crap from him over the years. More than I would ever advise my own daughter to put up with from any man. I would expect her to love herself more than that.

But here's the thing. Love is a choice you make. I believe that you can't help falling in love with someone. That just happens. But making the choice to KEEP falling in love with them after that initial stage wears off? Yes, that is definitely a choice.

And you know what?
I've been released from having to make that choice every day. And in so doing, my tolerance level of the rudeness and bullcrap I will take from him has plummeted. It's amazing what you'll put up with in the name of love.

And what sucks? I could have loved him forever anyway. I WOULD have.