Robot

I had a repeat guest in one of my knitting classes recently, who had previously learned knitting from me and dropped in again. She asked me how I'm doing, surprised me by remembering specific details about my family and whatever other bullshit I talked about with her last time. I asked about her two grown daughters, and she told me that her older daughter, who is twenty-four, had a bad Christmas. "She told her boyfriend he had until Christmas to propose to her," she told me, "and he didn't get her a ring. He got her two ugly sweaters. From Marshall's!"

I don't know what was funnier about this: the fact that she was so appalled that her daughter's boyfriend had given her sweaters in lieu of an engagement ring, or how appalled she was that said sweaters were purchased from Marshall's. To be fair, I would be a little (lot) miffed if my significant other only gave me two sweaters for Christmas, and I have been the recipient of a used DVD of season one of Mr. Show that was not even wrapped. Even so, I had to take a tiny amount of issue with the attitude she had towards her daughter's boyfriend not hopping to it when it came to something as immature as an ultimatum. "I understand your daughter having hurt feelings over this," I said, "but speaking from experience, I would never want to be married to someone who was, you know, pushed into it."

I had to explain the history of it, realizing that she did not know I had been married, that I had gotten married right around the age her daughter is now, and to a boy around the age her daughter's boyfriend is. My ex-husband claimed, around the time we separated, that he never wanted to get married and that it was the fact that I had wanted it and he had not that drove a wedge between us. I now know that wasn't really the whole story, that his percolating mental illness was what separated us, and that enough time has passed for me to be content with it. I've settled into divorce the way he was never able to settle into being married. I do have to give him credit, however, for teaching me such an important lesson. People assume, when I tell them that I am happily divorced, that I never want to get married again. I immediately disagree on that point, and explain that of course I would get married again, but that I would only want to marry someone who didn't need convincing. Just like dating someone who didn't really want to date me showed me not to do that. I don't ever want someone to accuse me of pushing them into something and having even a shred of doubt that I'm completely innocent. This isn't so much an aha moment as it is a no duh moment: don't marry someone who doesn't really want to be married. No duh. Don't date someone who will barely admit that they actually are dating you. No duh.

My viewpoint on this is ambivalent, in the truest sense of the word: I am split between contradicting opinions. Marriage seems like such a huge thing to people because we convince ourselves that we are going to sacrifice our autonomy completely, that we will never have any input on another decision, and, oh horror of horrors, that we will NEVER FUCK ANYONE ELSE AGAIN! My answer to any of those fears is: whoopy-flipping ding. On the one hand, just find someone you like having sex with at least 75% of the time and who agrees with you at least 25% of the time and stop being a fucking baby about it. On the other hand, no one should agree to something that will make them miserable just because it will make someone else happy. On the one hand, he's a dink for getting her two ugly sweaters (from Marshall's!) and on the other hand, she's a dink for trying to force his hand like that.

Explaining how I felt about this to a woman who is twenty years my senior and who has been married since she was younger than I was felt like a very odd role-reversal: I had some insight to pass on to her because I could see both sides of the argument, while her situation only left her with one view of it. Divorce endows a person with a very specific type of wisdom, and it's the wisdom no one really wants. It's similar, I imagine, to knowing what it feels like to get shot in the kneecap. Given the choice, just about anyone would say, "No, thanks, I'd rather not know what that feels like."

Struggling to explain how I feel about marriage to someone with such a narrow view on it is similar to the way certain friends of mine just don't understand what I'm talking about when it comes to money because they have never been poor. Or the same friends, when I try to explain my perspective on death to them, because they have never lost a parent and they literally can't see my point of view. A loss that great levels everything, makes your focus shift. To me, death is a part of life, and it needs to be dealt with, but I have seen proof that while the hurt is immeasurable at the time, it fades, and keeps fading, and there actually comes a point where it's faded so much, you kind of wish for it back because you almost feel numb to the loss. To me, I feel as though my perspective is healthy, because it's the only one I have and I have to live inside of it, but I worry that I just sound like a cold, practical robot to them. The same way that I fear sounding like a cold, practical robot when it comes to marriage and divorce. Still, like I said, it's just my opinion, and I wouldn't try to force it on anyone. And besides, what do I know? My guest realized that I'm not an expert, I'm just a cold, practical robot who teaches knitting. The only expert opinion I could give her was on the exact level of ugliness of the sweaters. And yes, she showed me a picture, and they were pretty ugly.