I wrote this as a partial response to another blog post, about, yes, marriage.
I've stopped believing in it, or at least believing in it for me. There are just too many walls to break through, and we're often the same people who build them up. I've banged my head on the brick walls of a lover's recalcitrance, ambitions, fears, and her doubts that are simply not extinguished except by ending the relationship. I give of myself and I come away from these dissolutions a smaller and smaller man.
This has been happening for a year-- I cry in the night. I cannot sleep except when I exhaust myself. I detest weekends because I know everyone else is having fun and I do not have any kind of work with which to keep the feelings of loss, inadequacy and despair at bay. I can't even write about this (catharsis therapy) without some well-meaning friend coming down on me about how my writing inconveniences them and would I please just stop because I'm driving them crazy.
The grand irony is that a good marriage is all I have ever wanted since I was 10 or 12. The best I can reasonably hope for now is canned intimacy-- the kind of companionship you pay for, time bound, cold, counting peak experiences in units of motel hours or "How many times did you orgasm?" I have not yet taken this road but my feet are guided inexorably to it.
Tina, I love you. Without you my life is crap.