I met K at the wrong time.
I have never been on any of those hot dating apps or websites; the two times I went to a club dancing was with girlfriends and I denied any male coming near me: I was not looking for someone like K to drop into my life anytime soon.
To be completely honest, I didn’t know that I would ever want to look for another long-term relationship, let alone in the next year or two.
At 26 years old I had already been married 6 years, parented 7 children — through birth, adoption, and foster care — and miscarried 2 babies. We had helped plant a church, mentored dozens of people, looked the part of what even myself would consider a ‘Goals Couple.’ Hell, we fooled even ourselves.
I was never going to be a divorcee. Divorce was for weak people who didn’t understand the sacredness of the vow. The word wasn’t even in my marriage’s vocabulary; it was never a threat, it was never discussed, it was not considered. It simply was not an option. There was even a saying in his family, ‘Divorce is not an option, but murder is,’ ensuring that we all knew divorce was the end all, unforgivable sin.
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