Revised Edition ~ marriage, motherhood and madness.

We meet in a coffee shop. We had known each other as children, but life had seperated us and even though she is mostly a complete stranger, I feel like I know her so well. Her laugh is familiar, her smile too. She read something I wrote and she want’s to know more. She talks like a New Yorker but occasionally a syllable escapes reminding me of our shared beginnings. Her friends are all having affairs, she tells, me, well not all of them, but many. Their husbands know, though some of them don’t. They seem happy, but she is confused. What’s the right thing to do ?

Marriage is complicated after so many years. We aren’t supposed to live this long. We are all pushing the boundaries. We look like we are forty when really we are fifty. We wear shorts and printed camisoles, our skin is clean, our hair straightened to hide our indigenous roots — it’s easier this way we agree. Mine is thinning where the clips of my wig used to dig in to my scalp. We grow it long, we cut it blunt. Sometimes it’s blonde. Mostly its grey.

I love my husband. I love mine too. He’s a good man. Yes he’s a good man. He’s brilliant. Yes he’s brilliant, and funny, yes funny. Even though, he’s boring and we have nothing left to talk about. He’s not stupid you know, yes I know, and he’s a good father. Yes, mine too. He loves his kids. Yes, he loves his kids. He loves his mother too but he never calls her. She would be devastated if I left. Maybe… maybe not, maybe he’d be ok. Maybe she too. How would I know?

He had an affair you know. I didn’t, though I could have. Maybe I should have. I was so hurt when he told me. My world fell apart. He said that he had always loved her and that when he did her garden and they were alone in the house that day, he could have, but he didn’t and now he probably wishes that he had. He cooks, she says, that’s important, and he takes the garbage out. Yes a man who can feed himself and his family is a very useful asset. Maybe you should stay.

She is an independent woman with a career, so she could leave, but she loves her life — their friends, their family, their life. Well, not so much her life because he really doesn’t seem all that interested in her life. He likes to watch sport. He loves to watch football. He watches hours and hours of football, like watching the war. She likes Stranger Things. He runs. Sometimes they travel. She doesn’t like to leave her responsibilities at work — so many depend on her, but they are doing the National Trail so she needs to get fit. Maybe that will help. He travels a lot. He spends months away visiting his family overseas. That’s what happens when you leave your family oversease. She’s excited by life, he is contemplative. She thinks he is contemplative, maybe he’s just boring. Maybe he’s having an affair. He’s very quiet. He doesn’t say much, but he’s a rock.

Sex is good. You know, its ok, we do it once a week. It’s mechanical. But it’s ok. Though I wish there was more. I wish there was passion. How is it for you ? We haven’t had sex in years she says. I wish he would just reach across this huge chasm between us and touch me. For me it was just another thing I had to do at the end of the day, after folding the washing. Someone else demanding the last of what was left. I was going to the mikvah ~ the ritual bath. What’s that like? She asks enthusiastically. I thought it was good for our marriage, two weeks on, two weeks off. But apparently it wasn’t. I was exhausted. We were like siblings, you know, sometimes it’s terribly comfortable.

She met a guy online. He pursed her, but then he gives her mixed messages. He has two children, and another women he sees on the side. She is older, but she demands nothing. They smoke weed together. Sometimes they do MDMA. He loves MDMA, he can talk for hours. He talks about love. She just wants to sleep. He lets his dog sleep on the bed so she leaves in the middle of the night. She has other men. She believes in open relationships. She is very progressive. She went to a nudist colony. It was wonderful she says. She doesn’t mind that he has other women, as long as he tells her the truth. She hates being lied to. It makes her feel stupid. She is very intelligent, but she doesn’t like asking for help.

She watches her phone. If he texts maybe she can still go tonight. But not until the children are asleep, and she will have to leave early in the morning. That’s ok, it’s worth it, because sex is great. Sometimes he texts late and she’s already asleep, these days she goes to bed early. She’s trying not to drink so much. They can’t keep their hands off each other. It’s magical and she sleeps so well. Maybe he is still married. How would she know? But even the married ones need love, she says. I tell her she is a temple prostitute. She likes that. She feels seen.

At the beginning she enjoyed it when he left. She enjoyed being alone. I didn’t have to worry about anyone else. Except for the children. I always worry about the children. The nights were long but I discovered myself. I wrote. I read. I slept. I love my hot water bottle. That’s all I need really, a good book and a hot water bottle, she said. Sometimes it’s better than sex. We are getting old. We are getting tired. We order another cup of coffee. I love my girlfriends. They are all so interesting, we are all so confused.

I am certified Classical Homeopath, Dip Hom IACH, and Voice Dialogue practitioner, available for online consultations.

www.rebhomeopath.com , rebhomeopath@gmail.com, +972 (0)547793606