unwifeable
Blog,  Books

My Unwifeable Moment in Time

If you haven’t read Mandy Stadtmiller’s Unwifeable, you may want to run out and get it. With this caveat. I loved it, but here’s the review I left on Amazon and Goodreads.

Next level bold. I immediately resonated with this author and felt inspired by her! Dark, honest and entertaining!

unwifeable

Without giving too much away, the book cover describes the memoir: Unwifeable is a New York fairytale brought to life – Sex and the City on acid.

The dedication of the book says, “For every person who was told they couldn’t.” GAH! YAAAS! I’m already on her side. On page two, she writes “Because you know what humans will do to avoid the pain of personal discovery? Nearly any-fucking-thing.” I was ready to give her a standing O.

You see, I went through an unwifeable moment in time myself. I dated a horrible douche-bag for 2 years. Immediately after I graduated from high school, I began seriously dating a guy who was a year older. Had already been in college a year, but the gap wasn’t prevalent. It would seem his goal in life was to make sure he knew I was less than he.

Unwifeable and Didn’t Know It

Nothing I did or said was good enough. Where I went to college was laughable (he constantly explained even David Letterman was ashamed to be a Ball State grad), my dorm was depressing and institutional and uninspired, I wasn’t smart enough (if I didn’t have the Webster’s definition for any word he might spring upon me, he would basically pat my head like a petulant child and tell me it was okay I wasn’t smart enough to know) and I wasn’t Christian, according to him. Apparently, the 18 years of Catholic Sunday school, sacraments and weekly church attendance didn’t qualify for this Baptist-minded a-hole.

He cleverly covered most of his douche-baggery with God. Like any good jerk would.

Insecure and unsure, I just dealt with it. Finally, I realized I was angry all the time. I didn’t know why. So I decided to seek counseling on campus. The campus counselor noted every time I talked about my boyfriend, I would make a fist and sort of bang it on the arm of my chair. I was startled. I didn’t even notice. I finally revealed I wasn’t totally happy in my relationship. In classic psycho-therapy form, she just sat there quietly and allowed me to fill the silence. And boy did I.

I broke up with him soon after. Of course, he completely owned up to everything, was incredibly apologetic and I took him back. It took a few more break-up attempts before I was fully free. No longer tortured to wrench myself into what this idiot wanted me to be, I felt a freedom to be myself in a way I had never experienced. I casually dated many guys and enjoyed the ability to just walk away at any time. And I exercised that option. It was so empowering.

Unwifeable and Loving It

I vowed to never marry and just be steadfastly single and live my life on my terms. I vividly remember attending my cousin’s wedding about a year after the break-up and having a total Sex and the City moment where the bride threw the bouquet and I watched as it landed quite literally at my feet.

Even when I met the man who became my husband, I wasn’t ready to let go of my single self. You see, the douche-bag wanted to get married and he had a plan set out for us. I was to follow this plan in accordance with his will. About a month after dating the hubs, he said the M-word and I immediately dumped him. This happened a few times during the course of our dating relationship. He likes to say I punted him several times, but he kept coming back.

Obviously, I’m so glad he did. Marrying him was the best thing decision I’ve ever made. Followed directly by my two little miracles.

While I don’t have the carnage Mandy Stadtmiller endured, I can relate to her and it is the reason I tweeted her asking if we could be best friends. I would not have been surprised if she had promptly blocked me. I had also been tagging her in my Instagram stories, but she liked my tweet and followed me instead. LOVE HER! And realized our best friendship is a definite possibility. 🙂

unwifeable