There are just some kind of men who- who’re so busy worrying about the next world they’ve never learnt to live in this one.
I’m hearing the skype call ringtone even though my skype program isn’t even on. What the heck!
Having been married only a year and a half, I’ve recently come to the conclusion that marriage isn’t for me.
Now before you start making assumptions, keep reading.
I met my wife in high school when we were 15 years old. We were friends for 10 years until… until we decided no longer wanted to be just friends. I strongly recommend that best friends fall in love. Good times will be had by all.
Nevertheless, falling in love with my best friend did not prevent me from having certain fears and anxieties about getting married. The nearer Kim and I approached the decision to marry, the more I was filled with a paralyzing fear. Was I ready? Was I making the right choice? Was Kim the right person to marry? Would she make me happy?
Then, one fateful night, I shared these thoughts and concerns with my dad.
Perhaps each of us have moments in our lives when it feels like time slows down or the air becomes still and everything around us seems to draw in, marking that moment as one we will never forget.
My dad giving his response to my concerns was such a moment for me. With a knowing smile he said, “Seth, you’re being totally selfish. So I’m going to make this really simple: marriage isn’t for you. You don’t marry to make yourself happy, you marry to make someone else happy. More than that, your marriage isn’t for yourself, you’re marrying for a family. Not just for the in-laws and all of that nonsense, but for your future children. Who do you want to help you raise them? Who do you want to influence them? Marriage isn’t for you. It’s not about you. Marriage is about the person you married.”
It was in that very moment that I knew that Kim was the right person to marry. I realized that I wanted to make her happy; to see her smile every day, to make her laugh every day. I wanted to be a part of her family, and my family wanted her to be a part of ours. And thinking back on all the times I had seen her play with my nieces, I knew that she was the one with whom I wanted to build our own family.
My father’s advice was both shocking and revelatory. It went against the grain of today’s “Walmart philosophy”, which is if it doesn’t make you happy, you can take it back and get a new one.
No, a true marriage (and true love) is never about you. It’s about the person you love—their wants, their needs, their hopes, and their dreams. Selfishness demands, “What’s in it for me?” while Love asks, “What can I give?”
Some time ago, my wife showed me what it means to love selflessly. For many months, my heart had been hardening with a mixture of fear and resentment. Then, after the pressure had built up to where neither of us could stand it, emotions erupted. I was callous. I was selfish.
But instead of matching my selfishness, Kim did something beyond wonderful — she showed an outpouring of love. Laying aside all of the pain and anguish I had caused her, she lovingly took me in her arms and soothed my soul.
Marriage is about family.
I realized that I had forgotten my dad’s advice. While Kim’s side of the marriage had been to love me, my side of the marriage had become all about me. This awful realization brought me to tears, and I promised my wife that I would try to be better.
To all who are reading this article — married, almost married, single, or even the sworn bachelor or bachelorette — I want you to know that marriage isn’t for you. No true relationship of love is for you. Love is about the person you love.
And, paradoxically, the more you truly love that person, the more love you receive. And not just from your significant other, but from their friends and their family and thousands of others you never would have met had your love remained self-centered.
Truly, love and marriage isn’t for you. It’s for others.
Link to huffingtonpost.
Hi there, frisky folk. It’s almost 2013, so I’ve decided to just write down a little summary of my year. After all, I can’t stress how much this is MY personal blog, in which I write whatever I want whenever I want. It can’t always be cat GIFs and meaningful random quotes. Sometimes, I’m important, too.
This year was definitely the happiest and least horrifying ever. In comparison to the last few, anyways. Years filled with the blood and gore of my innocence and cheer. In January, I was slapped in the face with the most wonderful and horrifying realization. Realization of love for a man who was obviously so out of my league. He was the Andromeda galaxy to my baseball bat. The president to my miner. I was as much to him as money might be to a rock. I was nothing.
Well, I felt like nothing. I felt like a coil bouncing uselessly against a hunky boulder, struggling with impossible feats of impossible-ness. BUT ANYWAYS, of course all my efforts at winning the heart of my loved one succeeded later, in March. Followed by months of happy times and getting to know him better than I know anyone in the world (directly unrelated to me by blood). Good year, man. Good fucking year.
In between, I aced two exams- with his moral support. And most importantly, I learned how to stand up to my mother because of him. My love was a worthy enough cause to finally fight for, and discard my thin, loopy spine for a much manlier one.
Another thing I did was get over this other guy. In my life, guys are important. Mostly because I refuse to be a lesbian (women are scary) and because I am a writer. Love and heartbreak are the things that push me to let out my inner creativity. To jolt down terrible tragedies or rancid romances to my heart’s content, in near-perfect grammar. I try, to say the least. I try to make it perfect. Romantic outrages in my life are what keep me going, which is why getting over that guy was so important.
When I was 14, I met this guy called Joe. He was really cool, intelligent, and totally unique like an amoeba. I never got one romantic or sexual word out of him. So over time, I got more and more attached to this person, because love occurs most often when it is against the odds. Then, after I’d known him for more than a year, he goes dating this totally mean ass German girl (who may or may not have been a girl because internet) that dumps him every other Monday.
Seven months and fifty thousand breakup-makeups later, they have the final boss battle and break up for real. Let’s put this into perspective; this guy that I have made conscious of how much I adore him, this guy who never acts out or does anything even remotely “normal” goes for the meanest person on the planet. This crazy bitch who posts totally lewd comments on his public profile and swears at people she meets for the first time, was the one who had his heart. THIS CRAY CRAY BITCH.
So yeah, I was like, WHAT’S SO WRONG WITH ME? And in the course of his relationship, he actually stopped being friends with me for a while because his girlfriend was threatened by my proximity to Joe. Anyways, I spent a few months crying and dying all on my own. My hair started falling out, I was always sad because I thought I had failed as a friend to save him. I had to hear him crying over her, and help him get back together with her after they’d break up. I blamed myself for not being more attractive. For months, I kept thinking that he would be happier with me. If only.
They did finally break up, but he never gave me a chance to prove myself as devoted to a relationship with him. In fact, he didn’t even give me a chance to love him. He ignored my feelings. He ignored how deeply I cared for him. How absolutely and completely I adored him. And one day, he admitted to me that he was just a scared boy. I agree so much. Joe is an idiot.
Loving him made me creative, but the following years of being miserable and confused didn’t help at all. It was a constant, unchanging feeling inside me. It told me I wasn’t worth anyone’s time. It told me that dying was my best chance at finding peace. The worst thing was that he wouldn’t let me stop being his friend and move on in solitude. He kept me close, but not too close. Let me go, but never too far.
This year, I finally moved on from counting on him to give me a chance at being close. This year, I’m done counting on people who treat me like shit. I’m done with people who think I’m worthless. Of course I am worthy. Somewhere deep, deep, deeeeep down inside me, there’s someone totally worth getting to know. And I am so glad that Chris has chosen to acknowledge that.
I might’ve been dead right now, if not for him. I was starting to get desperate to get people to notice me, and love me like I loved Joe. He broke my heart so horribly, and with such precision over a course of time. Everyone was only helping me to see why I should die, rather than helping me get back on my feet. I felt bad for wanting anyone’s help, anyways. But I am better now.
This was a good year, and I’m trying to trust Chris not to run after some cow that cheats, lies and breaks up every week. I mean, he totally isn’t the type to. But then again, neither was Joe. Attraction makes people stupid, just like it made me stupid. I’m not stupid for Chris, because he’s good, and awesome, and he is more than everything to me. He is the Andromeda to my baseball bat. And because of him, I can do anything or be anything. Simply because he makes me happy.
Also, for about a week in January, I thought I was going to be a lesbian. The guy I was dating cheated on me with a girl who was the cousin of my friend. So I went and cheated on him with the same girl, HA. It was just so see what was so great about her. Turned out nothing was great about her. She was the most boring, one-sided sexual experience I’ve ever had in my life. She was all bark and no bite. So I had to sort of start avoiding her after she became enticed by our night together. Our horrible, nightmarish night. I really made an effort, though.
Clearly, I’m something.
I also broke up with someone for the first time in my life in March. All the other times, it was passive breaking up, in which the other person eventually did it themselves because I got so unmanageable. Muahahahaha. It wasn’t really fun, but a lot faster than scheming and doing demonic things for weeks on end.
More recently, I’ve spent over 5 weeks and counting away from the man I love, and have yet to die of loneliness. I also discovered in that time, that I am an amazing cook. I wish I could marry myself.
Did you really read all of it? Lies and slander! Now keep scrolling and forget this ever happened.
My 22 year old sister just offered me a scrap of her flaking skin.
We accept the love we think we deserve.
Being honest may not get you a lot of friends but it’ll always get you the right ones