Not the Marrying Kind

I am a serial romantic junkie who savors independence. Not a winning combination, I know. Two incompatible yearnings which have collided numerous times throughout the decades of my life.

Did each of those six men get down on one knee to propose marriage to me? I think so but honestly some of it is a blur. I wish I could smell, taste, feel and listen to those proposals all over again. Occasionally, I test myself, check on whether I can list them all from marriage number one when I was nineteen years old through number six when I was – oh, never mind about that. But to my surprise, each time, I manage to get the husband sequence exactly right, a good sign that I am staving off dementia at the age of – oh, never mind.

The thing is when people hear that there are six husbands behind you, unfortunately, you can rarely count on remaining credible. So, I rarely mention it. Good thing I have a couple of post-graduate degrees under my belt, including study at Oxford University and Columbia Grad, and a flourishing Human Resources career. But then again, I have had six husbands. Ouch.

I respect all of my spouses. They are, as you say, good guys. Well, except for the fifth one who was sadly the most fun I ever had. Daring, dishing out the unexpected, Gregory, husband-to-be number five showed up on my business trip in New Delhi at my hotel room door in the middle of the night, wearing an Indiana Jones hat. There is no denying that’s what made me sizzle. The romance factor was off the chart. Although his position of Vice President was pressing, he waited patiently for four days while I trained my company’s managers who came to New Delhi from various places across India to learn about Leadership. At the end of the week, when I dragged Gregory to a Software Engineer’s wedding which lasted from early morning until after midnight, he delighted in the experience like I did; cheering with the crowd during the groom’s white horse procession down the avenue. We threw flowers. I wore a teal-colored sari and a long white chiffon scarf. There were oxen roaming the streets.

When Gregory ordered a private taxi to take us to the Taj Mahal the next day, I was more than impressed even with a stomach virus that haunted me during the entire ten-hour outing. The New Delhi amusement park on our final day clinched the deal for me. I was hooked on his love and in disbelief when he popped the question just a few weeks later.

But that was husband number five who turned out to be the only “bad seed” in the hexhad of husbands. It’s a doozy, as my Bronx friends would say.

The secret to a happy divorce: Give up stuff. “Here, you take the house,” I’ve said more than once, or “How about you keep the set of designer luggage? It’s yours, honey.” Be generous is my motto. You’ll lose a husband but you’ll gain a friend for life. Maybe more than a friend. You never know. In fact, you may end up marrying one of your husbands again. It’s not an impossibility.

The secret to a happy marriage: Resist taking his last name. When I have taken a man’s family name, it’s always proved to be a jinx. When I didn’t take it, I actually stay married, like this time, and it’s lasted eighteen years. He might grumble now and then about the “last name thing” but I can handle it, and make a joke about not needing to live in prehistoric times. “We love each other and that’s what counts,” I say. Fortunately, he always agrees.

Another tip: Keep your money separate. Pay your own bills. Nope, don’t even think about a joint house account. Split the cost of things. You take this bill. I take that bill. You can divide based on ratio of income, if needed. That way when, and if you split, it’s not so complicated. Avoid complexity. Again, it reduces hard feelings and anxiety. The love will stick beyond the paper plate marriage vows, beyond the divorce.

I never meant to emulate Elizabeth Taylor in any way except maybe for her acting chops, especially in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof or Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. That’s as far as it goes with any desire I might have to be like Liz. Nevertheless, there is some synchronicity. Can’t deny that!

AUTHOR BIO

Linda S. Gunther is the author of six suspense novels: Ten Steps from the Hotel Inglaterra, Endangered Witness, Lost in the Wake, Finding Sandy Stonemeyer, Dream Beach, and Death Is A Great Disguiser. Most recently in 2024, her memoir titled A Bronx Girl was released. Linda’s essays, book reviews and short stories have also been featured in numerous literary publications around the world. www.lindasgunther.com