You Will Not Marry That Man
Filed Under Secrets |
Back in the olden days there was a conflict called the Vietnam War. In 1966 the love of my life had been drafted. We were both very young and very much in love. My parents wanted me to stop seeing him because “all you’ll get is pain,” because he was going away. They didn’t get it. I was in love with this man who had very recently been a boy. I was preparing for college in the fall and he was going away to war. It didn’t seem right and it didn’t seem fair.
He asked me to marry him and wait for him. I said I’d do anything he wanted. I would have tossed myself on a spiked fence for him. He was kind to me and he was respectful - something I had never had at home.
I told my parents we were getting married.
“You are NOT getting married,” I was told.
“I AM getting married,” I said.
In order not to bore you, I won’t repeat all the times they said and I said the same thing over and over.
“Go to your room,” I was told.
I went to my room and didn’t come out for 4 days. I was really hungry. All I’d had for 4 days was water out of the bathroom tap.
I went to the kitchen and said, “I’m hungry AND I’m going to get married.”
They just looked away. I could barely hear, “we will not permit you to marry THAT man. We have contacted the priest and he will not marry you in the church.”
I said, “fine, I’ll get married in his church.”
The look of total shock came across my mother’s face as she realized it was not only possible but quite probable that I was serious. I left that afternoon and organized a wedding at the church. We didn’t have any money but we’d be married and that’s all we wanted.
Eventually my mother couldn’t bear the thought of her daughter being married away from “our” church and the small family wedding was planned in great haste because my love was due to leave for the Army soon.
Now we’re getting to SECRET #2.
The wedding went as planned - the center aisle in the church seemed 2 miles long and nearly every step my dad said, “it’s not too late, chicken, we can turn around.” I kept walking. We said our “I dos” and went to the reception. Someone started feeding me rum and coke and it was really good. I’d never been a drinker before.
I kept drinking.
…and drinking
Til finally my mother said we should leave on our honeymoon. We weren’t going far, only to Massachusetts, but it seemed like a long way to us. Our first night though was at a motel in town.
We got there, he carried me over the threshhold and we were inside. I was VERY drunk. I was waste of space to be honest. I didn’t care. I was married. I was a Mrs. and nobody could tell me what to do ever again.
I didn’t feel so well. My brand new husband wanted to try out the bride.
I got my white silky gown and toothbrush and went to the bathroom. I don’t know what happened in that bathroom but once I locked the door I realized I was alone in the world. Yes I had a husband but he was leaving me. What had I done? To him? To me? I’m sure it was the booze taking hold but I decided if I never went out of the room we wouldn’t REALLY be married.
He knocked on the door, “Are you nearly ready” he asked?
“No. Go away. I don’t like you any more,” I said.
“Don’t be silly, come on out,” he begged.
“No, I’m not coming out. I’ve made a big mistake,” I cried.
“It’s not a mistake, I love you and we just got married.”
“No, your mother wears Army boots and you tricked me,” I promise this is what I said.
“Your drunk, it’s ok, come on out.”
This went for 2 hours. I was still very drunk and was sitting on the bathroom floor crying. He finally came to the door and said that it was fine if I didn’t want to be married to him and it was fine if I wanted an anullment, but would I PLEASE COME OUT.
Slowly I opened the door and crawled out on my hands and knees (I couldn’t stand up). The wonderful man I married got on his hands and knees and kissed my forehead and said, “You are the silliest woman I’ve ever known.” I laughed and we talked and I decided that maybe being married to him was a good thing after all.
We had a lovely 4 day honeymoon and then he left for boot camp. I saw him for a weekend before he shipped out to Vietnam. That was the last time I saw him.
Coming out of the bathroom was a good thing.