I Think I Love My Husband…

Sometime last year I started to get fed up with my marriage. I didn’t think I liked him anymore. I wasn’t happy in our home with him.

Everything he did or said lead to an argument. I felt picked on and bullied by my own husband.

Don’t get me wrong he’s had his ways about him but I had “dealt” with them and just regarded it as, “oh that’s just how he is.”

I didn’t know why all of a sudden his clothes on the floor next to the hamper drove me crazy.

Or when he came home with take-out after I had spent time cooking gave me a fever.

These were things I had come to accept and condone.

I couldn’t pinpoint any one thing that I was angry at so that made it that much harder to decipher how to fix it. I’d been to therapy before and I was equipped with all the tools I needed to pull myself out of any depression (or so I thought) so in my completely rational mind, I decided it was him and NOT ME.

In my world when something doesn’t work I walk away. If I cant change it and if I didn’t cause then I would simply walk away.

Well, that had been my mantra in my 20s early 30s but honey I was pushing 40 and that reckless living just wasn’t going to cut it.

So I decided to do what any woman in my position would do…I decided to talk to my work bestie. You know the one you are seemingly close with it. She isn’t someone who’s close enough for you to care if she passes judgment but she can serve as a listening ear without fear of everyone knowing your business before you’ve told them. Well, my work bestie is perfect!

She’s 10 years my senior; born and raised in another city so there is no chance of approaching that 6 degrees of separation nonsense, and she doesn’t have social media ( I think her daughter is a spy, just kidding).

Well, I talked to my married friend to get advice and vent and what she told me didn’t sit well with me. I explained myself into exhaustion that I wanted to leave and she just wasn’t hearing me.

She implored me to think of my kids and I was sure they were tired of the arguing. Then she switched to my house, tuh material things don’t mean much to me I’d just get another.

Lastly, she got gutter and said, “Look, ain’t shit in these streets!” I was stunned.

Mostly because she is a polished well-to-do African American woman. Raised in Inglewood when it was upper middle class, a graduate of USC before the scandals, and married to a white man.

Ok, the last part is really why I was shocked.


No words.

I sat and thought about what she was saying. I had often joked that this relationship would be my last. I would live single-ly ever after.

What I initially thought:

As I thought about what that looked like. I started to see just what that meant. I would possibly die alone.


I wouldn’t have anyone to live my best quirky life with.

Lemme tell you, honey I am the original awkward black girl. I never knew how to describe myself until Issa Rae came on the scene and gave me space to just live and be me.

This man that I accepted as my partner had come to love me; flaws and all.

Why was I now tired of his flaws? Did I have the right to not offer him the same grace that he had given me?

He met a broken, scorn, fatherless girl.

He held me through depression.

He has literally kissed away tears.

He has cheered for me when I was too tired to suit up.

Then I got a little deeper with my thinking and looked past the “whatever” dumb shit that had recently happened and thought about my friend.

He had become my best friend. There isn’t anything that can or has happened in my life where he wasn’t the first person I wanted to call.

Who was going to be my friend?

The tears welled up and flowed freely just thinking of how he made vacations better, clubbing more fun, and conversations deeper.

And just like that, I fell deeply in love all over again.

Now, I don’t have to tell you it wasn’t an instant fix but it was better. I now looked at him with a smile instead of that snarl that had replaced my pearly whites.

We later had a conversation about my feelings. I told him the truth and I was terrified that he would say get out since I had contemplated it. I mean who wouldn’t be hurt that their spouse was at that much of a breaking point but instead he let out a hearty “HA!” and said, “Girl, you just turning 40. I told you it was coming! It sneaks up on you like an edible and then you start too trip.”

We laughed together.

I told y’all he was my best friend.

~Plenty ah’ smarts~, A Grown Ass Black Woman

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