the man she marries

the second time, isn't the fun, exciting, bad boy -- the notorious A.S.S. (hole), but rather the stable, nice guy she poo-pooed so often. The man she marries is the man who was right, was right there, but now isn't all that interested in the 9 days old stew.

So, there she is -- "in tatters" + vying for the attention of that stable, nice guy, who now needs a lot of coaxing. Worse still, he isn't clay to be molded. Uh-uhn. Nope. He is what he is. She may or may not have kids, still ... life unhappy, perhaps her heart shattered a few times.

So, lowered expectations, you accept, tolerate, then find dis-satisfaction again. Now marriage three ... "Look! I'm comfortable with who I am now. Damn it if he doesn't appreciate me." So, then there is are the years of separation --- denial, of where things went wrong.

I am the stable guy, the nice guy, the ninth draft, far from the motorcyclist arrogant, abusive (on some level), pig, who is the favorite pick of women. "Gosh! He's such a bastard ... I want him!" Now, after being with Bastard, she finds a nice guy, but ... he is much more passive and so ... failure again. Somewhere down the road, she finds, "this guy", seems attentive, courteous. She tries to interest him, but her years of baggage, she's never unpacked or disgarded win her "no points" with the stable guy who now can opt out.

I'm the marrying guy, the one who is the ninth draft ... the dead center pick ... not the end and not the first. The middle-of-the-roader, when she can't find love, she'll accept patient affection, but be bitter that it isn't love. She's bitter, not really with him, though he gets the brunt of it. She's bitter with picking ass, after bastard, after selfish jerk. So, guy four has no real competition other than he looks a little like the ghosts of her past.

So ... is love worth it, you wonder. When you find that you lump together because you can, not because you fall in love -- therein is life and "love" at forty.

+ Rolling Stones