Check out this great piece by my guest blogger, Deirdre McGill.
Every January 17th, I think about my live-in boyfriend from my college days. We were 19 and 22 when we hooked up and lived together for 11 years.
We moved in together after my father almost choked me to death. I made the mistake of standing up to my dad and in a fit of alcoholic rage; his reaction was not one of tolerance or understanding. Good thing that my Grandmother was there to pry his hands from around my neck or I would not be writing this today.
Disregarding the family advice of “why buy the cow when the milk is free,” I kept living with my friend without the sanctity of marriage until we knew that there was absolutely no future for us. He wanted to get married and I refused unless he swore fidelity. He refused.
Besides the “cheating” issues and the years of lies and betrayals, I knew that marriage was not on my path. Over the years, I turned down over 100 marriage proposals. I had to be honest with myself. I wanted to be happy. I wished for happiness with all of my heart and knew that I would be on a life’s adventure until I found it – or it found me. I knew that I could never be happy with a man when I was not happy with myself. Continue reading