The first time was not for love.

This isn’t my first marriage.

About 20 years ago, I was married.

For like…

10 minutes.

Technically, it was a little over a year.

It’s no secret that I really admire Number 4.

And one of the biggest reasons is that she has this internal self-esteem that I never had as a kid.

In fact, I’m still working on it now.

But I admire Number 4 because I feel confident that, at such a young age, she knows who she is.

She knows what she wants.

She cares about other people, but she puts her needs first.

I never had that as a kid.

Or a young adult.

Or a twenty-four-year-old.

I was always about the chase with guys.

If I could land a guy, pursue him, and snag him,, then I felt good about myself.

But that was just about the only thing that I thought I had going for me.

And once the chase was over, I got bored.

I’d find a new conquest.

I’d line up the new one, start the pursuit, and when I was pretty sure I was about to take him down, I’d dump the latest guy.

I was never alone.

I never felt good enough about myself to just be by myself.

And so, after a fairly long relationship with a pretty conservative guy was starting to lose its newness and passion, and was getting boring, I set my sights on a new guy.

Totally the opposite from my Republican, suit-wearing, side-parted, responsible, boyfriend.

The new one was a smoker.

Of all things smokeable.

He was a Dead Head.

Had long hair.

Dressed like a slob.

And I went straight for him.

I’ll be honest.

It wasn’t much of a pursuit.

I kind of knew early on that he wasn’t the dude for me long-term.

But he was fun.

A little too much fun.

And I got pregnant about 3 months into the relationship.

I was living in Pennsylvania at the time, and I was looking for a full-time teaching position.

And now I was single, and pregnant.

It wasn’t exactly going to help me in a job interview.

I immediately planned on getting an abortion.

But every time I thought about it, I became hysterical.

I believe in a woman’s right to choose, but I just couldn’t do it.

And so, my baby daddy proposed.

I got a teaching position.

The wedding was planned for the middle of August, before the school year started.

And then,

well,

you’ll have to come back tomorrow for the rest.

To be continued…

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