Reader’s Commentary: I often wonder if the events that happened on my wedding day were red flags waving at me.
First, a policeman stopped me and said I was driving too fast. Embarrassed, and running late for my beauty salon appointment, I politely explained that I was en route to preparing for my own wedding. Fortunately, he smiled, told me to drive within the speed limit, and wished me “good luck.”
I needed it. The next “signal” of trouble brewing came from my bridal gown, sewn too snug across my ample chest. Next, a “sign” from my father: Standing beside me at the start of our father-daughter walk down the aisle together, he whispered, “It’s not too late if you’re not sure.”
I thought that he was joking.
After the ceremony, our guests danced and dined, as did we, until my new husband knocked his glass and spilled champagne all down my bridal gown. It further tightened the top across my chest.
That night, my mother-in-law announced she’d be at the airport along with a photographer to see us off to our honeymoon next morning. “Don’t muss up your hair and ruin the photos for the wedding album,” she ordered (as is her way). Then she laughed and said: “No sex tonight!”
Once settled in our honeymoon suite for our week in the Caribbean, the fact of being “a married woman, attached to another person,” took hold.
Since I’m by nature a friendly person and was curious about the other couples honeymooning in the same hotel, I struck up a conversation with a lovely, outgoing same-age woman as me, also a bride.
When her new husband joined us, he suggested we four all “go over the hill together,” which meant that we partake of the music and dancing that’s part of the island culture and entertainment.
My new female friend and I were introduced to the “limbo” and laughed together till I fell on the floor (no injury, thankfully).
But my husband intervened. “You’re not doing that again,” he said in front of everyone nearby who could hear. “I’m not having my wife make a spectacle of herself,” he added, then grabbed my hand, and insisted we go back over the hill to our hotel room. Period.
I now believe that the fact that our wedding venue, which experienced a destructive fire two weeks prior to the event, making it unusable, was sending a roaring message to me: “Run!” And, eventually, I did.
Dear Ellie: Several of my female friends, whom I’ve known for years, are now widows. Unfortunately, two of their husbands experienced health problems, and by their mid-70s had passed away.
It was initially a shock to our group. We tried to stay connected with the widows, but unexpected issues arose regarding money.
We’d all enjoyed middle-class lifestyles. When at someone’s home, that person or the couple, would cook or order a meal for us all. No one ever discussed costs. Now, whenever a widow joins us at a restaurant, one of the men pay her share.
This is beginning to upset some of the wives, who are starting to resent their husbands paying for women, who are still in our same financial bracket, but just single.
The Cost of Friendship
A caring discussion is needed among the friends involved. The newly widowed must deal with wills and other legal matters. And their new-found solitude. They need your ongoing friendship.
Many widows, and widowers too, insist on paying their own way if they can.
Send questions to [email protected] or [email protected].
