I have two ex-husbands, which means I have enough experience to speak on the subject with at least some authority. Not expert-level authority, mind you. More like someone who has touched the hot stove twice and now feels qualified to give safety demonstrations.
The older I get, the more I realize that ex-husbands are a lot like tea. At one point, they seemed like exactly what I wanted. I chose them. I committed to them. I invested years of my life in them. I was absolutely convinced they were the right choice. Then somewhere along the way I discovered that what I thought was a rich, satisfying blend was actually lukewarm tea that had been sitting on the counter too long.
The funny thing about getting older is that your tastes change. At twenty, you’re looking for chemistry, excitement, and somebody who gives you butterflies. At my age, butterflies are suspicious. They usually mean something is wrong. What I’m looking for now is someone who can back a trailer, fix a garbage disposal, carry a heavy box, and not need emotional support when a project takes longer than expected.
When I was younger, I thought potential was attractive. Potential is highly overrated. Potential is just another word for “maybe someday.” I spent enough years around “maybe someday” to know it often turns into “probably not.” These days, I find competence incredibly attractive. A man who knows how to solve problems without creating three new ones? Swoon.
My husband now is good at pretty much everything. It’s honestly a little annoying. If something breaks, he fixes it. If something needs built, he builds it. If I have an idea, he figures out how to make it happen. Meanwhile, I once spent twenty minutes looking for my phone while talking on it. We all have our gifts.
I used to think romance was flowers, candlelight, and handwritten notes. Now I think romance is hearing, “I already took care of it.” That’s it. That’s the whole love language. If a man says, “Don’t worry about it, I fixed it,” I may need to sit down and fan myself.
The truth is, I don’t regret my ex-husbands. They taught me valuable lessons. Mostly expensive lessons, but lessons nonetheless. They helped me figure out what I wanted, what I needed, and what I would never again tolerate. Sometimes the purpose of an ex isn’t to stay in your life. Sometimes their purpose is simply to make you appreciate what comes next.
So yes, they were my cup of tea.
But life is funny. You grow up. You get wiser. Your standards improve. Your taste gets a little more refined.
And these days?
I drink wine now.
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