I wish I were married so I wouldn’t feel so lonely at night.

Hearing myself say it aloud, I realize how ridiculous it sounds.

Not only because God didn’t create marriage to fix the obvious deep-seeded personal issues I have with myself but also because, well, there are a lot of married people in the world who, in fact, still feel lonely.

And I gotta say, that is much, much worse.

Imagine. Me, lying in bed. It’s half-past midnight. The ceiling fan spins relentlessly overhead, shooting clouds of years-old dust off its blades never cleaned. Yet I’m dripping with sweat, my clothes soaked through, because I lie in wait underneath the fifteen-pound quilt that was a wedding gift from Mom—a tradition passed down through the generations—originally stitched together by great, great grandmother’s own brown, calloused hands. I stare at the empty pillow to my right and the absence of my husband’s form, wondering if he’ll come home tonight, worrying that he’s gotten into an accident, or the pants of that slut from the gym. Because it’s always a slut from the gym, right? Or the store, or, heaven forbid, church…

Yes, there are worse things than singleness, and I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone. Not even the woman who was lucky enough to marry the ex love of my life. Though, we both know she wasn’t that lucky, and sometimes I sit up at night and wonder…

Is their marriage happy?

Does she often times feel just as lonely as I?

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