'three women' & a state of affairs
plus, debunking the 7 year itch
This past month, instead of writing, I accomplished something that I haven’t in a very long time: I read an entire book, start to finish, in less than 28 days. The book was Lisa Taddeo’s Three Women, which came out back in 2019. For February, I was looking for something to dive into - something about love, but also something that would make me think, which is exactly what this book encouraged me to do. Yes, it was a book about love, but it was also very much a book about love gone wrong, sideways, unrequited, and settled for.
The book follows the stories of (you got it) three real women. It’s written in such a way that you would swear it’s fiction, but it’s not, which became all the more apparent when I was able to Google one of the stories in question and find a slew of news articles and photos that made it difficult to relinquish the reality from my mind for the rest of the day. In short, one story is about a young woman taking her former teacher to trial over a relationship he had with her when she was 17. Another is about a woman in a passionless marriage who seeks out an affair with a boyfriend from the past, who - spoiler alert - isn’t so great, either. And the third is a woman in a relationship with a little too much passion: she and her husband spice up their marriage with threesomes and “approved” affairs that are fun…until they’re not.
Basically, all of these stories rocked me. At the end, I was left unsettled, slightly in awe, and overwhelmingly sad. While these stories contained their well-intentioned crescendos and climaxes, none of them felt resolved, and it struck me that none of the women in question came out the victors in their own lives - at least not within the pages of this book. I don’t doubt they’ve found happiness at one time or another, but I find it hard to believe that everything ended up perfectly okay. It’s not a judgment on their choices, just a reaction to the facts that were presented.
Relationships were certainly on the brain this month as February 12th actually marked a milestone in my own love life: 7 years since my first date with the man who is now my husband. I guess it wouldn’t be all that momentous if it weren’t for the cliche that kept popping into my mind: the dreaded 7 Year Itch. I can’t say I’m feeling particularly itchy (save for the bug bites around my ankles now that I’m spending more time in the garden again), but I couldn’t help but become a little consumed by the issue.
Here I was, reading this book about 3 women, all suffering in one way or another at the whims of a man. Not to mention, a new podcast by one of my favorites, Jo Piazza, was reporting on the upsurge of extramarital affairs incited by women. On top of that, on Valentine’s Day, country singer-songwriter Kelsea Ballerini released a fantastic short film and EP detailing the end of her young marriage, simply because she was unhappy, unfulfilled, and tired of forcing it. Based on what I heard, I couldn’t blame her.
But why, in this month of love, did it have to feel like everyone was falling apart?
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get in my head.
Well, she said she felt pressured to have kids, and I still don’t know if I’m ready to have kids, so am I lying? Is this a bad sign?
That woman was frustrated with her husband, and sometimes I get frustrated with my husband….Are we lacking the necessary passion? Do we have The Itch?
A friend just said she had a dream that I was filing for separation…does she know something that I don’t??
Oh no, I’m not happy today. Is it him? Is it me? Or is it the songs I’m playing on repeat?
Exhausting, right? Because none of it was/is really true.
It’s no big secret that after 7 years with the same person, things get comfortable. There are no passionate first kisses against the back door of the Ryman while Chris Stapleton sings “Fire Away.” There are no first date jitters. There are tired nights after long days and the same stories being told over again because you can’t remember if you’ve told them before. There are lazy nights on the couch in oversized sweatpants and scrolling through Netflix trying to find something you can both agree on. And that’s not to say that love is gone - it’s just changed. And accepting that change is a little itchy, but it’s not a deadly rash. At least, it doesn’t have to be.
After some quick and close examination, I was able to settle myself down. I was just getting in my head. You know how, sometimes, you’ll have a really funky dream that sets you in the wrong mood for the rest of the day? Maybe you dream that your spouse cheated, and you wake up mad at them. Or perhaps you dream that your goat is being eaten alive by another goat, and you just can’t shake that icky feeling for the rest of the day? That’s kind of how I was feeling. Except, these womens’ stories were not my story. And any unhappiness I was feeling was a result of my obsession with those other peoples’ circumstances, brought on by a lack of attention to my own needs and interests (more on that later).
I’m an empath to the max, and I was absorbing an alternate reality to my own detriment. But deep down, I think I wanted to feel what these women were feeling because I wanted to feel how they felt after.
After they made a choice.
After they set themselves free.
I want to be empowered, too, I thought, whatever it is that means.
Empowerment. Hmm.
This trend I’m noticing of women speaking up - about their love lives, their sex lives, their basic human needs - is just that. It’s empowerment. It’s stepping out from the shadows. It’s the next round of shamelessly declaring what’s real and what needs to be heard. Which is something I struggle to do in just about every aspect of my life - something I’m trying to do right now.
While I was getting so caught up in my marriage potentially falling apart for no reason other than that it was a new “trend” in the realm of media I just happened to be consuming all at once, I was missing the point. It’s not about marriage. It’s not about sex or queerness or gender identity. It’s about being a woman finding herself in the world. It’s about speaking out. It’s about honesty. It’s about saying, “Here I am, an imperfect person with real struggles, and no matter what you think or how you feel, this is what I did about it. This is part - but not all - of my story.”
Ultimately, my marriage is fine. It’s great, actually. It’s healthy. We’re growing and changing and working really hard, physically-intensive but creatively-fulfilling jobs. We have big dreams that haven’t come to fruition just yet, but we also have each other. We support each other. And that’s what truly matters. He empowers me; I just have to learn to empower myself, too.
…Stay tuned for a little more on that.