Take Me Home

I've always been a hopeless romantic. As a child I loved to dress up and
wrap my mother's white bed sheets around me, pretending it was a
wedding dress. My veil was a makeshift net curtain borrowed from one
of the bedroom windows. I always wanted to be a bride, and have a big white wedding, having one special day with all eyes upon me as I walked down the aisle in my beautiful ornate dress. As I got older my obsession developed from sheets and net curtains to second hand
wedding dresses, mainly purchased from charity shops or car boots
sales. I have no idea where my obsession came from. I was the antithesis to my mother's cynicism love and marriage.

Of course that wasn't always the case, my father had loved her once upon
a time but settling down and having children wasn't on the agenda
for him. He just up and left one day like Houdini in a puff of
smoke, never to be heard from again. The pregnancy came as a huge
shock to both of them, but credit to my mother who faced up to her
responsibilities and raised me single handedly. She never settled
down with anyone else after my father, instead she just grew more
bitter and resentful towards men. Eventually her bitterness consumed
her soul, which eventually led to her downfall. Shortly before my twentieth birthday she died suddenly, it all happened so quickly. The doctors said it was aneurysm, but I knew
deep down that she'd died of a broken heart. She never really stopped loving my father, as cowardly as he was she did adore him. I vowed never to end up like her, wasting my life on unrequited
love. I believed in the power of love, and knew whoever I married would definitely be my soul mate.

I remember the first time I set eyes on him, it was instant chemistry.  We were both attending a networking event, and I found the whole thing rather tedious, having to make
small talk with complete strangers. I only attended because my manager persuaded me, but I'm so glad I did. Being my usual self, I didn't waste any time and darted over to the other side of the
room to join him mid conversation. We hit it off straight away, it felt like our paths had crossed before. We arranged to meet up again the following evening, and before I knew it we were embroiled
in a passionate whirlwind romance. I've always believed in love at first sight, but never in a million years did I think it would ever happen to me. In one way I do have my manager to thank for
forcing me to attend that networking event all those years ago. It didn't take him too long afterwards to propose, the timing just felt right. I knew there and then that I'd met my soul mate and my
prince charming.

Our wedding wasn't overly lavish, but was perfect in every way. I dressed up like a princess for the day, all eyes were on me. Although at one point a few days before, I did thought I would
have to postpone everything. My fiancé unexpectedly became ill with a stomach bug and a raging fever. At first I just put it down to last minute nerves, but when he started projectile vomiting I did
start to think cancelling was the only option. Thankfully he made a full recovery and our wedding day went ahead as planned. While we were on our honeymoon I noticed a few peculiar things about his behaviour, but tried to put it to one side. In the hotel room he would knock things over, but would blame me for moving things and leaving them in harms way. I was still on a massive high from the
wedding, so I didn't really want to pick an argument with him over something petty. Even though I knew I hadn't moved anything out of place, but his behaviour only fuelled my suspicions. Once we arrived home I noticed how he would lose his balance now and again, but would casually claim he was tired from over work. Of course whenever I discussed my observations, he would get quite defensive and give me the cold shoulder, you could cut the atmosphere with a knife. As a newly wed I didn’t really want to be arguing with him, it was no way to start married life. He would accuse me of having an over active imagination, but my sixth sense told me differently. I knew there was something seriously wrong.

As time ticked on we both tried to settle into our new roles as man and wife. He knew I was aware he was hiding something from me, but the subject was continuously shoved under the carpet. His
balance problem worsened and he became more fatigued. He fobbed me off claiming he had man flu, but my patience was wearing thin and I was getting sick and tired of being treated like an idiot. Until one day I'd just about had enough so I just blurted it out over dinner, “there's something wrong with you isn't there? You're ill aren't you?” He didn't need to vocalise his answer, the expression on
his face told me everything. I felt completely numb and just froze,as he sat opposite me looking like a rabbit in headlights. I don't recall everything he said, but in my state of shock all I could
decipher were the words multiple sclerosis. We'd been married for less than six months, and all I could think of was how stupid I'd been. I felt like such a fool for being taken in hook line
and sinker. Suddenly it hit me like a ton of bricks, this man sat opposite me was a complete stranger. I'd given my life to a man and yet I know nothing about him, but he felt comfortable enough feeding me lies ever since we met. Sitting across from him in total disbelief
I'm wondering why he would do that to me, why allow me to fall in love with him if he knew he was ill? My head was spinning I was so confused, and in all honesty all I wanted to do was hibernate from everyone and everything and pretend this wasn't happening.

I looked at my husband sat there with such a pitiful and sorry look,I’ll never forget that look of shame on his face. I loved him but yet despised him for cheating me out of so much.  Part of me
desperately wanted to hug and kiss him and let him know everything would be all right, but at the same time I wanted to slap him hard across the the face. I can still hear the registrar’s words
ringing round in my head “in sickness and in health, till death do us part.” I know I should stand by him and support him, but I can't. Instead I take off my wedding ring and place it gently on the
table, it broke my heart having to do that. Maybe my mother was
right to be so cynical after all, maybe love is overrated.

Whatever semblance of a marriage I had disappeared  forever that day. I doubt I'll marry ever again.