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Why this title? "Sublingual meaning below the tongue." Is it a medical term? Yes. Will you find medical advice here? No.
This column is devoted to wry, subtle —and sometimes difficult to catch—light-hearted secrets or old wives' tales revealed from under the tongue during inconsequential coastal chit chat.
Photo by Christine Chapman
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Serial Monogamy
by Christine Neilson
Coastal gloom and dripping fog led to a philosophical conversation on a Cambria coffee house's patio. Bundled together under an outdoor heater, this group of baby boomers recounted the highs and lows of their romantic encounters over four decades—long term marriages, divorces, dating, and being single became the hot topics.
After a couple hours of recalled ups and downs, I graciously excused myself, returning home to snuggle under a down comforter in front of the fireplace. My mind was churning from all the matrimonial input. As a result, I opened my laptop to create a creative writing collage while crunching on cereal.
Ah, why not use a homophone in my title: "Cereal" No. "Serial" Okay, add a dash of "Monogamy" . . . always controversial. Now, how about an epigram to rev up my writing engine.
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What follows has a literary disclaimer: All of the characters and events are fictional.
"Within Western culture, serial monogamy is considered more fundamental than 'full' monogamy. Relatively few people consciously enter a long-term relationship wanting it to eventually end so as to begin another."
-- Sociologist Susan Petrella, Carleton University, Canada
McKenna Sinclair's life has been charted in flight patterns; repetitive 3's & 11's. Three 11-year marriages. Number one, surfer dude. Number two, transitional, but steadfast. Number three, trust fund baby/man.
This morning, after signing divorce papers, she mopes over her choices, recalling her mother's stinging words.
"Why do you settle for so little?"
Good question. She e-mails her friend since age 24, Jeff, to get his take on her sprints through matrimony.
An instant message flashes back on her computer screen, "Most married couples are bored after more than a decade . . . You're too hard on yourself. You've had a good run." No mention of his current marital status.
New perspective. McKenna ponders marriage economics: quality versus quantity. Little did she know that within the next 11-hours three monogamists would be whining over her land line.
8:05 a.m. Ring.
It's Gia, married 34-years. She squeals into the receiver, "He slapped me. Said he wants a divorce, then walked out the back door screaming 'you're a psycho.' He scrambled pot into his eggs this morning. I like my life. I don't want a divorce. Gotta go he's comin' up the path." Click.
11:45 a.m. Ring.
McKenna reluctantly picks up. It's Kate.
"I know I'm responsible for my own happiness. I've accepted that he won't marry me. It's been 16-years. Afraid to confront him. Anyway, he just avoids the topic. We're just companions now. No sex. Not attracted to him. I know what you think, but he is generous and good to me. Have to go. I'm home alone, want to relax." Click.
McKenna unplugs the phone. She savors her self-pity while tearing up lettuce for a salad. Overwhelmed, she shoves her lunch aside. Texts Danielle, another serial monogamist, for solace. They agree to meet up at a swanky resort overlooking the Pacific for high tea.
Striding across the hotel's lounge, waving at her red-haired friend who has sunk into an overstuffed floral sofa across from the grand piano. After a brief greeting, Danielle philosophizes.
"We've learned to dodge those who are threatened by our not putting up with shit from our husband. It takes courage to walk away, leaving behind suburb houses, cars, and all other trimmings. Boy, am I tired of tirades. Remember when Natalie ignited saying we drive her crazy? Constantly moving, changing phone numbers, jobs," she laughs, allowing the honey to slide off a silver teaspoon into her china cup.
"Really, could you have lived with one man in one house for over 30 years? Not pursued your passions . . . travel, writing, meeting new people, luxurious unscheduled alone time?"
Back home, she sheds doubts. Runs a steaming bath, mentally surveying her family's history of 'til death do we parts.
Mom and dad dated for six-weeks, married 49-years. Died 10-months apart of broken hearts.
Flip side. Paternal Scottish grandfather immigrated to Canada at age 14. In 1915, married a French Canadian. Its been told that grandmother had an affair with a ship's steward on a return trip from China in 1922. The roaring '20s social ethics did not tolerate female infidelity. She lost custody of her children.
Then, of course, there's Aunt Eve, who at age 31 put a hose in her VW's exhaust pipe inside a closed garage after being left by her husband for his secretary. And finally, Uncle Al who married the same woman twice, had a nervous breakdown, and estranged himself from the family.
McKenna collapses on to her faux leather chaise.
Dream: Casually, with trepidation, she plucks up a ringing phone's receiver, offers a blunt greeting. Recognition. An immediate reaction to a masculine, flirtatious voice inviting her out. Next, they're jumping on to his Harley, speeding down a dark, two-lane, foggy coastal highway to a'40s stucco motel. His seductive whisper, "You're all I need. Why are you laughing and not crying? I truly admire you. I truly do. When I leave, I'll fantasize about you."
Slowly crossing over into fading light, McKenna's eye lids flicker. Curled under her down comforter, she reaches for her laptop, boots up her home page. Ah, a Yahoo quote, "If one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can totally transform a million realities." Hmmmm.
She "googles" serial monogamy. "The desire to get married—which, I regret to say, I believe is basic and primal in women—is followed almost immediately by an equally basic and primal urge—which is to be single again." Nora Ephron, New Yorker Magazine.
Counterpoint. Esquire Magazine, Scott Raab, writer-at-large, "Having something fall apart, or torn apart, when you're in your 50's is a whole different level of suffering and despair." Ouch! McKenna grimaces. She's 54.
An instant message pops up on the screen. It's Rita, married for the fourth time. This one stuck. "Did you hear that Jeff got married? I was absolutely stunned . . . .He married a student of his . . . Her name is Lucy . . . I never thought I would see the day he got married again. I am kinda surprised he is still 'kickin' . . . My advise to you is stay single. Honestly, it's so much easier."
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