At twenty-one or twenty-two years old, I made North Star promise me she wouldn't let me marry Glenn.
At twenty-three, I broke up with him for about the tenth time. Kicked him out of my parents' house and said it was time for us to move on.
At twenty-three and about three months, we got back together. At twenty-three and about three months and a couple of weeks, I told him we should just get married because it seemed like no matter how many times I broke up with him, we ended up back together.
A week before twenty-three and four months, our wedding.
Before two months had passed, I wanted a divorce. Got an apartment, packed up my stuff, and moved out.
Alone in an apartment and life for the first time ever, I freaked out. Glenn moved me back in the next day.
At twenty-seven, I had two kids under four and a strong desire for a divorce. My mother convinced me single motherhood would be too hard, and I needed to stay.
At thirty-four, Glenn and I finally separated for real. That one could have been for good if I didn't cave after finding out he had a girlfriend and ask him--beg him--to move back in.
At thirty-five, Glenn and I separated again. Instead of my mother, it was a therapist's doing this time, but the result was the same: she told me life would be too hard on my own and I needed to stay.
At thirty-seven, the separation lasted two months. That time I even went so far as to pay for an attorney, but old habits, you know?
Not even six months later, when I was still thirty-seven years old, another separation. That one went for six months, but those goddamn motherfucking same old fears.
At thirty-nine, we separated for the last time. At forty, I'm waiting for the divorce to officially be a thing.
I have never been so happy in my entire life.
Two weeks ago, while I was intensely making out with some super cute guy who I'd just met walking down the street--because I'm totally allowed to do that--a girl stopped and interrupted us while she was walking by.
I love your spark! she said.
I looked over at her. What? I asked, surprised.
Your spark! she said to me, picking up her hand and waving it around as if to indicate an aura surrounding my being. Then she glanced at the guy I had been kissing seconds before. Yours is nice, too, but hers is amazing. I love it!
I love it, too.