Thursday, May 10, 2012

Fancy pants and prenups...

I am in love. Unequivocally, head-over-heels, heart thumpingly crazy about another human being. Anyone who has been in my shoes before will know what I am talking about: goofy grinning, glass half full outlook, rose coloured glasses - check, check, check - a renewed lust for life that if harnessed, would generate enough energy to send a space shuttle to the moon and stars (coincidently right up where my heart has been bobbing around). Fortunately the object of my affection  (we'll call him G) has reciprocated my adoration. We have been the couple that make people roll their eyes and feign vomiting when our backs are turned (or our lips are locked and we are oblivious to the world around us). PDAs? You betchya. Pet names?  Where to start? 'Belle Boo', 'Fancy Pants', and of course, good old fashioned 'Baby'. For over a year now I've made my friends and co-workers ill with my perpetual whimsy and verbalised day dreaming. An article I read recently discussing the sections of brain active in those in love drew an eloquent comparison of the scanned image of an in-love brain to that of the brain of someone who has been snorting cocaine. Like all of those under the spell of a big fat dose of dopamine, I haven't been able to control my lust. A year has whizzed by where I've eaten, slept and breathed all things G. I've had barely any time for anyone or anything outside the family circle he and I have created with our collective brood of children.

However, four days ago, the aforementioned gushing intoxication and happy endorphin delivery to my brain came to a screeching halt with the detonation of an atomic bomb delivered by G in the form of a conversation on a prenup.

Now to set something straight, there is no rock. No bling. No diamond (of the blood or slave-labour free type). Not even a piddly cubic zirconia to soften the blow. My beloved has not got down on bended knee and asked me to spend eternity with him. The words 'Marry Me' have not been spelt out in candles on the beach or trailed behind an aeroplane in plump cloud formation for me to view from my picnic blanket in the park. No, this request is of the de facto contract variety. If ever there was an oxymoron that could vacuum extract the happiness out of something as special as marriage, the 'prenup' in a no-marriage prenup takes the cake.

Now in G's defence, both of us have had unhappy endings in marriage before. His had a particularly nasty ending financially, which aside from seeing his wife and mother of his children run off with his best friend, also resulted in the loss of a great deal of money for him. Both of my marriages (yes there have been two) ended in the parting of ways, but not of finances. Does that mean I lost any less than G did? Is his hurt any greater than mine because his bank balance decreased? The end of my marriage to A was the hardest time of my life. It was undignified, humiliating and gut-wrenchingly heartbreaking. I lost more of myself when he walked out on me than I knew it was possible to lose. If I had possessed all the money in the world at the time, I would gladly have handed it over in exchange for not feeling my heart shatter into a million little pieces. If I could have bought my sleep and paid off the sick to my core, debilitating lurching that swam through my body for months I would have. I can't equate dollar value and love. The two just don't marry (pardon the pun) for me, and therein lies the crossroad G and I are facing. The dreamer and the pragmatist.

I see the shock and judgement when people ask if I will marry again and my reply is 'of course'. I can read the incredulation in their gaze,  'She's been married and divorced twice already and wants to do it again?!' They question outright why I'm not just happy with being G's 'partner' and observe that apart from 'that piece of paper', I am for all intents and purposes his wife anyway. I'm not suggesting that after a year I think G should be popping the question, nor am I wanting to stake claim to any of his possessions. The reality is that he is miles ahead of me in the financial security stakes. I don't own property or shares or have anything physical that he could take with him if he left. He does. I do understand his point of view, but I am so deeply insulted by the suggestion that I would take anything from him that we have reached a stale mate on the topic of a financial contract. I'm shocked that at this point in our relationship (i.e. pre-bling) I am being asked to sign on the dotted line. I am a giver. It's my nature, but am I being asked to give without getting anything in return?

I want happily ever after. I want to spend the rest of my life with one person. I want to sit in my rocking chair next to my husband and look back on a life less ordinary. I believe in love. I believe in marriage, and although I've had my heart destroyed, it has healed, and I have faith. I had hoped that my quest for love would shine the way to that happiness, and up until four days ago, I thought I had succeeded. Now I'm questioning whether or not I can make it with someone who can't shelve their past hurt and take a leap of faith with me - bling or no bling...