Why I Stayed
Some dynamics of my marriage were unique, but I stayed for the same reasons so many women stay
When people ask my husband and me how we met, he likes to say, “She was bartending, and I was drinking.”
Our meet-cute should have been my first red flag. The man who would become my husband wasn’t someone who occasionally came in; he was one of the bar’s many regulars.
Advice to bartenders everywhere: Don’t date a regular. Or at the very least, don’t marry one.
To be fair, he was one of the bar’s most respectful regulars, though the standards of respect for women in that particular bar were staggeringly low. The first time we met, he requested a Bud draft, and he even said “please.” When he smiled, his white teeth glimmered against his rich brown skin, revealing his signature dimples.
Those dimples made me woozy. Maybe I stayed for the dimples.
When we met, we were both seeing other people. Both those people left us around the same time, then both decided they wanted us back. But it was too late. He had already given me his number, and I had already called him, and one thing had led to another.
I saw in him someone who was lonely and hurting and a little lost. Smart, but consistently underestimated. Motivated…
