When Hal and I were in the trenches, lighting and putting out cigarettes on each other's hearts, we regularly spoke of divorce, how we would deal, who would move out. It was Archer that kept us together, mainly because neither of us could mutter the words "custody" or "step parents" without seeking a toilet bowl to puke in.
I have never been a jealous girlfriend, or wife. Quite on the contrary, actually. But the thought of my son with another mother figure singing him to sleep? Broke me.
I have the utmost respect for couples who make it work, who pick up and glue together the broken pieces of their marriage "for the kids" AND for themselves because I've been there and it's tough fucking work. I also very much applaud the couples who understand that it's soul suicide to fake it work.
Unadulterated honesty, when it comes to one's heart and well-being is mandatory practice as far as I'm concerned.
For a lot of couples, that means getting a divorce:
For Hal and me? It meant almost...
And today our marriage is all the stronger for it. We needed to come out the other end of that hell. We needed to face head on, an almost divorce in order to wake up, covered in dust, happily married. Which is why if I ever get around to writing another memoir? It will be about that.
How it almost happened.
But didn't at all.