Several of my friends have asked me why a girl whose parents separated because of infidelity would marry a man who has two divorces chalked up to his infidelity. They are convinced this marriage is a bad idea -- that James can't stay married. I think they should mind their own business. Or get in line behind Greg

I know his first three marriages failed. As I said before, I saw it happen. But I honestly believe this time is different. That I'm different. And while a part of me knows that sounds incredibly self centered, I think it's true. Besides...if you can't be self centered in therapy, where can you be self centered?

Do we want kids? Yes. Absolutely. Have we formally discussed it? No. One, because I think neither one of us is sure how to bring it up and two...well...

James is going to be an excellent father. He was made to be one. I have no doubt that when we do have children, they will become the center of his world.

The thing is, I'm not sure I'm going to be a good mother. My mom wasn't the greatest of influences. She was immature, selfish, and too wrapped up in her own drama to care about anything else that might have been going on. And then when she decided to start caring again, I was 17 and had my own life. Needless to say, we're not close.

I'm just so afraid that I'm going to turn out like her. And, logically, I know that the very fact that I'm worried about it means that there's a good chance I won't -- that I'm different enough from her. But still, it keeps nagging at me.

But I want kids. Two boys and a girl.

Maybe it's time we talk about it.

For some reason seeing this on the profile page was really bothering me. So I've moved it here. Not that most of you don't know this already.

( Vital Information for Your Everyday LifeCollapse )

[Having someone wonder where you are when you don't come home at night is a very old human need. ~Margaret Mead]

You have five new messages.

First message: Hey. Just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be running late tonight. See you when I get home. Love you.

To delete this message, press seven. To save it, press nine.

Next message: Me again. It’s about 9:30 and I just walked in the door. Guess you’re working late too. Call me when you get this.

To delete this message, press seven. To save it, press nine.

Next message: So it’s about eleven and I haven’t heard from you. I tried your office, but it doesn’t look like you’re there either. I’m going to call House and see if he’s heard from you. Call me. Love you.

To delete this message, press seven. To save it, press nine.

Next message: Call your damn husband. Where are you, anyway?

To delete this message, press seven. To save it, press nine.

Next message: All right. Now I’m worried. Are you okay? You need to call me. At least let me know you haven’t broken your neck.
****
She felt awful, and sort of touched, as she sat in the driver’s seat of her jeep, listening to the stream of messages that had been left for her the night before. She wasn’t used to people wondering where she was. Her mother had always been too wrapped up in her own drama to care about when Abi came and went, her college roommates and her were on such wildly different schedules it was a miracle if they ever did see each other, and in Australia she lived alone. So having someone home and wondering where she had gone was a totally alien concept, but a nice one.

She hadn't planned on being out all night either. She had actually been heading home to meet James when an emergency had forced her to turn around. A joey had fallen out of its pouch and for some reason the mother wasn't calling it back. So Abi had spent the night sitting in the kangaroo pen, trying to coax mother and child back together. It wasn't until the morning, when she was leaving, that she realized her phone had been sitting on the dashboard the whole time.

Dialing Wilson’s cell, she started pulling out of the lot – she’d pick up coffee and bagels and then head home or to the hospital, depending on where he was.

She was just about to turn when he picked up. “Hey, it’s me. I JUST got your messages. You’ll never believe the night I had…”

1. When my parents started fighting.
2. When my parents divorced.
3. When my uncle had his infarction.
4. When I started college.
5. When I made the decision to start avoiding my mother.
6. When I switched majors.
7. When I went to Australia.
8. When I got married.
9. When I came home.
10. When my grandfather died.

“You’re an idiot.” House jabbed at Wilson with his cane on the last word. “And you…” His attention turned from Wilson to the brunette beside Wilson. “You’re an even bigger idiot.”

“Me?” Abi frowned. She had only been here five minutes. What could she possibly have done? “Why am I the bigger idiot?”

“Because…despite his track record and minor problems with fidelity, Wilson still believes he will one day have a marriage that doesn’t end in divorce. Stupid. But true. He still thinks he can be married. You? You know better. You know he can’t stay married and yet you married him. Hence you’re the bigger idiot.”

“It’s…”

“Different this time?” House made a face. “Bonnie and Julie thought the same thing.”

“House!” Wilson frowned. He had known this was going to be difficult. He had prepared himself for the jokes and sarcastic remarks. But to flat out tell Abi the marriage wasn’t going to last? He drew the line there.

“What? You gonna try and tell me it will be different too? Cause it won’t. Everything will start out great and full of sunshine and rainbows. You’ll try and convince me I was wrong – flaunting how in love the two of you are. But it won’t last. It’ll never last. And a year or so from now, Abi will be in here telling me how you’re cheating on her and then I’ll have to choose one of you…and why did neither of you think about how your little whimsical adventure would affect me?”

“Because.” Abi blew a piece of hair out of her eyes. “Believe it or not, it had nothing to do with you.”

“Nonsense.” Of course it was about him. He couldn’t think of a pairing that could be any more about him. Well, maybe if Wilson had married Stacey. But that was weird. He didn’t want to think about that. “Let me guess…the two of you bonded over your mutual concern for my well being and my reckless ways?”

“Hardly.” Wilson moved over towards the coffee machine. This conversation was going to require a lot more caffeine than he had in his system at the moment.

“Then what? Wilson’s daring deeds of triumph?”

“My broken foot.”

How much do I know? Quite a bit. How much do I want to know? Probably not as much as I do.

I have met all three of my husband's ex-wives and know two of them past just a name and a face. Of course, they were all still his wives when I met them.

I also know that he has had a mistress or two, someone that he ran around with that ended the marriage. Two of his marriages failed due to his infidelity, the third failed due to hers.

At times I think this is a good thing. I know the history. I know what went wrong there (or I think I do). I can prevent it from happening again. I know the women. I know I'm nothing like them. I wasn't fragile when James met me. The first time we met, I wasn't even legal. I was a fifteen year old girl hanging around Princeton for the summer with her uncle. And when we ran into each other again last year...the only thing fragile about me were the bones in my foot that had broken.

I don't need to be constantly cared for. I'm not someone who needs my every whim catered to. I just need him.

And while logically I know that should be enough. While I know we can make it work, it doesn't always stop the nagging feelings in the back of my mind. The thought that maybe Greg was right. That James and I are idiots. That he can't stay married. And that a year or two from now I'm going to be sitting in my uncle's office, crying, telling him that James is cheating on me.

In those times, I think it would be better not to know.

Not as good as I feel I should be.

I've known James for a little over ten years. And I've had a crush on him nearly as long. As a teenager, I made a point to know everything about him -- his favorite color, his favorite food -- all those details young girls think are so important. And I put that knowledge to good use when buying him Christmas presents. Something I'm sure my uncle still mocks me for.

But people change. They grow. The things that once appealed to them are no longer even on the radar.

I don't know him anymore. Not the way I used to. And this isn't necessarily a bad thing. I imagine that if he was the same person I knew at 15 or 16 that being married to him would be boring. This way there are still things left to learn; to discover as we go along.

Of course, that does nothing to help the frustration one feels when standing in the middle of the mall wondering whether you should buy him that shirt that matches his eyes or the Hitchcock biography.

"Do you, James, knowing this woman's love for you and returning it, realizing her strengths and learning from them, recognizing her weaknesses and helping her to overcome them, take Abigail to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"Place the ring on her finger"

"And do you, Abigail, knowing this man's love for you and returning it, realizing his strengths and learning from them, recognizing his weaknesses and helping him to overcome them, take James to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do"

"Place the ring on his finger. Let these rings serve not as locks, but as keys, unlocking the secrets of your hearts for each other to know, and thus bringing you closer together forever. I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Abi was almost certain that when she got a hold of the pictures Suze was taking, that she would be absolutely mortified at how dorky her smile was as her lips met her husbands. But she couldn't help it. After ten years, she was finally Mrs. Abigail Wilson.