I recently had a conversation with a colleague named Jessica about a mutual friend who was going through a divorce. Both of us are in our mid-30s, and the tale she shared was quite captivating. This friend, let’s call him Eric, was allegedly caught kissing another woman in a parking lot, which led to her husband confronting him with a physical altercation.
“We’ve known Eric and his wife for years,” Jessica remarked. “We’ve celebrated holidays together. Now, they’re splitting up, and it’s just so strange.”
We naturally delved into discussions about Eric and his wife, noting their lack of children might simplify the situation. But then the conversation turned toward divorce in general. Neither of us were contemplating divorce; after all, we both had been happily married for over a decade. However, it felt like an increasing number of our peers were calling it quits. We spent nearly half an hour discussing how much we valued our spouses and how daunting it would be to start over.
Reflecting on my 20s, I remembered a time when it felt like everyone was getting married. I spent countless weekends attending weddings and selecting thoughtful gifts for newlyweds. Fast forward to my 30s, and the narrative has shifted to one dominated by divorce. I tied the knot at 22, which is relatively young, and while my wife, Sarah, and I have evolved over the past twelve years, we’ve done so together. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be the case for everyone.
Sarah and I have lived in multiple states during our marriage, and like many couples, we keep in touch with friends through social media. It’s perplexing to see someone you’ve known for years—whose wedding you attended and whose child you celebrated—now listed as “single” or sharing photos with someone new.
Adding to the complexity is the fact that many of us in our 30s were raised by divorced parents. The divorce rate peaked in the late 20th century. My mother is on her third marriage, while my father passed away shortly after divorcing his fourth wife. This has led to a family tree that’s more like a tangled web of stepparents, half-siblings, and estranged relatives. I once tried to introduce my former stepsister to Sarah via Facebook but stumbled over how to refer to her. It felt bizarre to have once been part of her wedding but now be unsure of our relationship.
When I got home, I recounted my conversation with Jessica to Sarah. We laughed about the parking lot incident she described. She playfully asked how I would react if she ever kissed someone else, to which I replied, “I really don’t know. I’d like to think we’re beyond that.” I continued, “Engaging in a physical fight over something like that seems so outdated. I’d rather focus on our future than dwell on the past.”
In the kitchen, as I prepared my lunch for the next day, our three kids were engrossed in their show while Sarah busied herself with dinner. The unusual quietness felt like a stark contrast to the usual chaos of parenting. “I fight for this family every day,” I told her, listing the efforts I make, from waking up early for work to coming home late. “It’s not about throwing punches; it’s about showing up and being present.” I went on to highlight some of the things she does for our family, and together we recognized that maintaining our marriage is a daily commitment, not a dramatic showdown.
I finally shared what had been weighing on my mind: divorce has profoundly influenced my life, and now, in my 30s, it feels omnipresent. I can’t help but wonder if divorce is just a natural part of adulthood. The phrase “till death do us part” carries a different weight today, leading me to question if we’re all fated to be serial monogamists.
“Sometimes, it feels like divorce is almost a rite of passage,” I admitted. “That thought is unsettling because I genuinely love you and cherish our family.”
I’m not here to propose solutions for divorce, nor am I judging those who’ve experienced it. Marriage is a challenging endeavor, a complex blend of emotions and growth. What I do know is that I’m committed to my marriage, and that commitment doesn’t resemble a parking lot fight; rather, it manifests as daily dedication. This reality may not seem glamorous, but it’s the essence of marriage in our 30s, and understanding this perspective has made me appreciate the significance of what Sarah and I do for our family every day.
As Sarah kissed me, she reminded me, “Don’t forget, your ring says ‘Love you forever’ inside.” And indeed, it does. Her simple reminder brought comfort, reinforcing that the promise we made long ago still holds profound meaning for both of us.
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In summary, as we navigate our 30s, the prevalence of divorce can be disheartening. Yet, it’s essential to recognize that lasting love is a daily commitment that transcends fleeting passions and societal trends.