Ahhh. The time has come.
Anyone who follows me on Twitter has probably gathered over the last few years a few things about me.
1) I’m Canadian
2) I’m a scientist
3) I’m married
4) I’m an asshole (probably)
I don’t talk about my personal life very much, mostly because I highly doubt anyone is terribly interested in it (I’ve been in bed since 9pm if you need evidence of its banality at times).
But, what’s this! Married Mel has a date?? Interest appears piqued. Not so much of the “Oh, how was your date?” but more of the “WTF dude, aren’t you married?” sort.
Short answer: Yes, I’m married.
Long answer: Whew. Hold on.
I’ve been with my partner for 8 years, most of them quite happy. We got married. It was an awful day, if I’m being honest. It was stressful and busy and I got a ton of attention I didn’t want. But my flowers were pretty and my Dad cried, so I suppose it was alright.
So, there we were. Married, two dogs, a cute little house in a city I didn’t hate. I was finishing my PhD, and planned to find a job in that same city. We wanted a family, and essentially a “normal” life. The sort of life I’d say most people expect they’ll have.
But, alas. Not everyone is cut out for that sort of thing. He and I realized, slowly, that things weren’t as they should be. We weren’t as happy as we expected we’d be once we got married. Life was a bit dull. But we limped along that way for awhile, living less and less like a married couple, and more and more like roommates. It wasn’t awful, actually. We still enjoyed each others company, and it was nice coming home to a house with someone in it. We had fun going out with our friends, or traveling together. We had a nice house, good jobs, and a nice life. Maybe that’s enough for some people, but it turns out it wasn’t, for us.
After spending many months ignoring our problems, we finally talked about it. We realized, thankfully, we were both feeling the same way. We had (still have) so much love for each other. But it was a love rooted deeply in friendship, and that’s all. Admitting this to ourselves and eventually to each other was incredibly difficult. It was so much easier pretending to be happy- going on day by day in our “ok” lives with our “ok” relationship. But I came to realize that I owed it not just to myself, but to him, to be honest about how I felt. I know now that I deserve to be with someone who is crazy in love with me- and so does he. We knew we were never going to be that to each other. So, we admitted it, and separated.
Though this happened last March, I stayed living with him until I moved to the UK just after Christmas. People thought we were crazy. But in reality, after working out the initial kinks of having a different sort of relationship, it was like living with a best friend.
I love him more now than I suspect I ever did. He’s still the rock in my life- just in a different capacity than perhaps I expected. Of course, none of this turned out how I expected it to. But in the end it turns out I’m so much happier now, knowing I’ve made the right decision for me and for him.
So, there you have it.
Now stop fucking asking about it, you absolute cunts. 🙂