When Worlds Collide

My husband did not live in the big city. And while he claimed to love coming to see me there, I soon figured out that his enthusiasm for urban life extended only so far. At first, he drank it all in -- going to every art museum, literary book store, gourmet coffee palace, and sleek martini bar in sight. He delighted in ordering take out sushi in the middle of the night, of being able to find any manner of material good without going to Wal-Mart, of meeting people who wore Kangol caps and spoke in iambic pentameter...

But after a while, it started wearing on him: the people, the traffic, the noise, the bustle, the culture, the pretentiousness. He never learned how to make a bubble and retreat into it -- it was all stimulation, all the time for him. After one particularly tiresome work-related cocktail party, he confessed that he felt terribly uncomfortable around my friends. He said he felt like they were all staring at him, waiting for him to screw up so they could pounce on his faux pas.

Not true, I insisted. They all like you, and enjoy being around you because your perspective is so fresh. But they resent me for taking you away from them, he said. Again, not true, I said. They see how happy I am with you, and are in awe that any man could break past my wall of resolve. Anyone who has doubts about us, I said, changes their minds after five minutes around you.

Still, nothing I did or said could ease his discomfort if we strayed too far outside my bedroom. Eventually, the balance tipped, and I started traveling more frequently to his small town. His friends regarded me as either a curiousity or a passing fad. One of the first weekends I spent with him, he took me to a Fourth of July party at his best friend's house. My khaki skirt and black tank top singled me out as the only woman there who was not wearing red, white, and blue. Believe me, they all noticed.

In truth, I didn't much mind the small town. I was raised in a similar place and understood the people who lived there, so it was easy enough, at least on the surface, to adapt. But you have to remember that I spent 20 years putting my small town past behind me, reinventing myself as a sophisticated city girl. Because I was used to pulling my old life out a few times a year at the holidays and family reunions, it was with some dread that I realized the small town girl was in demand all the time.

I don't mean this to sound bitter. We worked very hard to find the balance between our worlds, and often succeeded. But it became increasingly clear that if we were going to be together, it was going to be in the small town. I was mostly okay with this, because I felt like a life outside work was a fair trade off for giving up the Sunday New York Times and truffle risotto. What I didn't realize, however, was that there were things about him that would make it impossible for my new life to ever compensate for the life that I was leaving.

I understand what they mean by hindsight being 20-20....


The Wife Who Knows.