Regret
The Failure rate for second marriages in the United States, according to Divorce Magazine (yes, they have their own magazine) is more than 60 percent.
Never did I think I would be on the wrong side of that statistic (truth be told, it is Sharon’s third divorce), since I was supremely arrogant to think I could handle anything and everything that gets thrown at a second marriage:
Money issues were No. 1 (not in our case).
Stepchildren issues (nope).
Poor communication (to a degree, yes).
Sexual or physical abuse (no way).
Infidelity (whoops – on her part).
But this isn’t about divorce rates.
A friend asked the other night if I regret marrying Sharon.
Regret, according to the dictionary is, “…to feel sorry about, or to mourn for (a person or thing gone, loss, etc.)”
So no, I do not regret marrying Sharon, nor do I have any regret divorcing her, either.
(I know that I did everything I could to save this union; and until she seeks help for her issues – whether they be mental or physical – it is my opinion that she will be doomed to repeat her mistakes for the rest of her life.)
But I got to thinking about things and I do have but one regret.
Before we were married, I got a vasectomy for her. My gut told me not to, but I did it anyway.
I regret that I will never be able to father a son or daughter of my own (and to all of you who say, “A vasectomy can be reversed,” this one cannot. Time, and my surgeon’s competence, mean no more happy, healthy swimmers from me).
I would have been a terrific (biological) father (I already am a terrific stepfather).
And in all of this, I will never get the chance to bear that out, to prove it (biologically).
And I mourn not having a son or a daughter to carry on the essence that is me.
Never did I think I would be on the wrong side of that statistic (truth be told, it is Sharon’s third divorce), since I was supremely arrogant to think I could handle anything and everything that gets thrown at a second marriage:
Money issues were No. 1 (not in our case).
Stepchildren issues (nope).
Poor communication (to a degree, yes).
Sexual or physical abuse (no way).
Infidelity (whoops – on her part).
But this isn’t about divorce rates.
A friend asked the other night if I regret marrying Sharon.
Regret, according to the dictionary is, “…to feel sorry about, or to mourn for (a person or thing gone, loss, etc.)”
So no, I do not regret marrying Sharon, nor do I have any regret divorcing her, either.
(I know that I did everything I could to save this union; and until she seeks help for her issues – whether they be mental or physical – it is my opinion that she will be doomed to repeat her mistakes for the rest of her life.)
But I got to thinking about things and I do have but one regret.
Before we were married, I got a vasectomy for her. My gut told me not to, but I did it anyway.
I regret that I will never be able to father a son or daughter of my own (and to all of you who say, “A vasectomy can be reversed,” this one cannot. Time, and my surgeon’s competence, mean no more happy, healthy swimmers from me).
I would have been a terrific (biological) father (I already am a terrific stepfather).
And in all of this, I will never get the chance to bear that out, to prove it (biologically).
And I mourn not having a son or a daughter to carry on the essence that is me.
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