RSVP. That's what began my journey to redemption. Then I was a hopeless drug addict and a drunk, before responding to that wedding invitation that changed my life.
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I had lived with Jane my first wife for years. But our marriage what something you could describe as anything but happpy. Jane was as grumpy as any dissatisfied wife could be, and I wasn't the source of her dissatisfaction. She always complained even though I gave her enough of everything--love, my company, attention and affection, showered her with gifts. She always found fault with everything thing I did, and that with time tore my world apart.
I had come into marriage with high hopes. I had witnessed the extraordinary happy marriage of my parents ( who passed away some 28 years ago, bless their hearts), and I wished, even hoped to walk into that type of marriage. But disappointment hit me like a bombshell after I married Jane. I had endured it for years, for the sake of our only son, (who is now an adult and a physician in one of the cities) until I finally gave in to drink and drugs as an escape from the harsh realities I was facing in my marriage. At that point, to me, true love was a mirage, a grossly overrated western-world invention.
I had tried marriage counseling and tried rehabilitation but both came to nothing. Most unfortunately I didn't want to split with Jane because of our son. I wanted him to have both fatherly and motherly guidance while growing up.
For years I was a tormented shell of myself until I met my good friend Jones whose Dad was a famous business magnate. We had met at a birthday party of a mutual friend, Jen.
Our friendship lasted for years, and Jones proved to be an invaluable companion. Being with him brought a lot of good into my life but my life was still a lot messed up.
Jones paid me a visit at my Niks Avenue mansion one day. I had split with Jane then. We discussed for sometime before Jones told me there was a social function he wanted us to attend next weekend. It was the wedding of his best female friend, and he wanted us to be there together.
"Hope I wouldn't have to deal with large crowds of people there," I said. "You know I have been suffering from Social Anxiety Disorder for years now."
"Oh," he said with a friendly smile. "You need not bother about that. It's an exclusive wedding, and I managed to get you an invite. A lot of important personalities will be in attendance."
The wedding turned out quite more exotic than I expected. Of course the bride was the daughter of a US congressman, her mother was a famous physiologist in the country, and the wedding didn't fall short of expectations.
Actually I went to this wedding half-heartedly because of my acrid distaste of anything marriage or love. My failed marriage had imploded all the liking I had for such matters. But I just stuck around to please my dear friend, Jones.
The wedding progressed beautifully to it's end. I especially watched with disbelief as the diamond rings slid into outstretched fingers.
During the wedding reception, I was introduced by Jones to a young woman. She was about 25 years of age, and I recognized her as the maid of honor from the wedding. She had glittering blonde hair held up in a ponytail. Her Amber eyes were a sea of warmth and affection as I gazed into them. She had the foxy height and shape of a model, and she spoke several European languages impeccably. I was attracted to her in part because of her laudable intellectual personality.
I hold intelligence in high regard and feel naturally attracted to anyone who has it. And Michelle seemed the perfect intellectual figure, so we sat down at a table and got the conversation flowing right away.
After our first meeting, I got her number and dialed her up some days later. We arranged a date which took place in some exotic restaurant in the middle of town. We talked about a lot of things, our backgrounds, family history, ambitions, and others. I was beginning to realize I felt different with her from other women I had been with.
At this point I didn't want to make any serious commitment in my relationship with Michelle. I was still in doubt. Jane was no longer around, she had passed away two years before, but a burnt child dreads fire they say. It took a lot of thought and consideration plus pieces of advice from my friend Jones to ever entertain the thought of wedding Michelle. Most men would stake their lives at this opportunity--she had had a large number of suitors, all of whom she turned down.
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I decided to give love a second chance to prove it's authenticity to me--because of Michelle, and I was never disappointed. I married the love of my life, Michelle, some two years afterwards and we had a very happy life together.We had three kids. My other child with Jane had finished university and had become a physician. I and Michelle lived for years in utter happiness and love, until death decided to strike and obliterate my joy.
Michelle died from complications arising from a surgery, and I had wept like a babe that day. It seemed the ground on which I had stood firmly for years was sifting beneath, and I felt devastated. But I was able to hold myself together and give the love of my life a deserving burial, and then carry on with my life with our adult kids, for I swore I would never marry again, the taste of love I had had from Michelle was just enough for me.
Thanks For Reading.
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Here we find a well-established history of the main character experiencing deep misery in his first marriage. You go on to describe the transition between this time and the day of the wedding nicely. However, we believe you would benefit from an article in our catalog of fiction writing tips called Show, Don't Tell.
For example, the way you described Michelle's beauty without stating it directly— wonderfully done. Adding in descriptions of this nature truly makes a story shine! We hope this feedback is helpful. Thank you for sharing your story with us, and for your engagement with other members of the community.