Celebrating a Bygone Wedding Anniversary
I’m the kind of guy who catalogs. That is to say, I hang onto things—a low-rent anthropologist of the self. I hang onto things like dates, which is why I’m real good at remembering your birthday. And when we first met. And what I was wearing the day I asked Amy Coyne to be my girlfriend in eighth grade. (Light blue Levi’s, a fighting Illini long-sleeve hooded t-shirt, and matching U of I boxers—only I could appreciate.) Some might say that it’s an unhealthy obsession—clinging to the past’s moments and allowing them to infiltrate my present day. I disagree. It’s not an obsession. Rather, it’s a kind of wayfinder. A chart of moments and events and people and, therefore, feelings that brought me to the present and informed my current status as a modern man. For good and ill.
Today would be my ninth wedding anniversary. But, you know, divorce happened. It happens to a lot of us. The Centers for Disease and Prevention reports that 40-50 percent of first marriages end in divorce. Now, before I continue, let’s take a moment to bask in the hilarity that the CDC keeps tabs on American marriages. That’s saying something about the institution, and it can’t be good. I have no issue with the idea of marriage. My problem, which was a problem shared by my wife at the time, was our marriage. But, hey, some harm, some foul, we’re all better off for it having ended. As unfortunate as it may be for so many reasons, there are many fortunate reasons, too. Truly, considering the two years since we called it off, we’re both doing just fine.
But, because it’s a date that I won’t soon forget, and there are plenty of wonderful and loving memories swirling in my head this day, I must find a way to acknowledge—even celebrate—the anniversary. It was, after all, one of the best days of my life thus far. So, here’s what I propose.
September 10, henceforth, shall be known as the Day of Broken Promises. It’ll be recognized as the day we all make promises none of us will keep. Because what is divorce if not a reneging on promises made to the person you once loved more than anyone else in front of all the runner ups?
With that declaration, here are my promises to you. None of which I will keep.
• I promise to get up when the first alarm goes off
• I promise to not judge you by the music you listen to
• I promise not to judge you for the manner in which you consume your music (Spotify vs Amazon vs Apple vs vinyl, etc.)
• I promise not to laugh at what woke white women would consider offensive jokes
• I promise to spend only seven minutes on the toilet when taking a crap—two games of solitaire, maximum
• I promise not to stir shit with my family members
• I promise not to write about my divorce anymore
• I promise not to write anything that could embarrass me in front of my kids
• I promise to stop using gallows humor to deal with the pain of being a man
• I promise to not vote and then not complain about politics
So, happy Day of Broken Promises. I regret almost nothing. I’d change almost everything.
