Want to find me.. I will be at the bar with a glass in my hand, but not eating the nuts... bar nuts are sort of scary.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

A Non-Single Expat Marriage or “What was your name again?”

That pretty much sums it up.  And has done for over 20 years. 

It’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.  I had worked in the same industry as Mr Dear Husband, so knew what it was like to be caught up in the tidal wave, glance at my watch and think “Holy Cow… I just pulled a 18 hours shift!”.  The scary bit was having the energy to then go ‘out for a drink’ after work, where I was on a first name terms with barmen that didn’t start work until the wee hours of the morning.  There was none of this wide-eyed, fantasy stuff about my marriage.

Two decades later, I still wonder how I managed and why my children have turned out to be such well-adjusted human beings, lord knows, they certainly have grounds to want to wring our necks for all the changes we put them through (and still do).

One of our most exotic postings, where we both worked full-time, we had a phenomenal social life.  Both of us were constantly invited to all manner of grand and wonderful gatherings.  We had been in the country for over a year when we happened to be attending the same event, and somebody tried to introduce us to EACH OTHER!  Many people had never seen us working the same party at the same time.

Now I find it tough when he is here all the time.  There are moments when he sits on the sofa, switches on the TV (to a sporting event, what else) and I instantly find myself tensing up.  I think “Hey, who said you could chose what is on the TV!”.  Yesterday I was mad because he didn’t fluff up the sofa cushions before going to bed… nuts or what!

And so, here we stand.  For the first time in over 20 years, we have to learn how to BE with EACH OTHER.  All the time.  Perhaps I will start introducing him as my boyfriend… that could put a little spark into an everyday, normal as Joe, married life.


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