This Is Not Our Happy (8th) Anniversary

Eight years ago, I made the biggest mistake of mu life.

Leah* and I were married on the 24th floor of the Franklin County, Ohio Courthouse.

Let's go back to thee year before. She threw me out of the house after we had argued. I left behind a job, returned to Atlanta and lived a carefree life of sorts. Spent time in Maiami, with this cute guy named Marc Daniels (his real name; at the time I considered my self bisexual). Everything hunky-dory. Flash forward to April 1997. It was the week that Ellen DeGeneres came out of the closet I was on my way back to my hotel in Whitehall, a Columbus suburb, then had plans to go to the Havana Video Club on North High Street, in the Short North District, to watch "The Puppy Episode" I was making my way back to North High (after finding out that a pastor friend of mine had moved away) when Leah called me (she was visiting one of her sisters). I decided that it wouldn't hurt, but had to make clear that I was on my way to see friends. She offered to take me back to the hotel, only to find that the bitch lied. Instead, she took me back to her house on the central east end of Columbus. We did the nasty (fucked, okay?), then...she proposed. Now picture this scenario, kids. I've just finished fucking my ex-girlfriend (then watch that "Puppy Episode"). We're naked as fucking jaybirds. And she proposes to me.

Can you say 'deer caught in headlights'?

So the next day, we got married.

Those tears I cried that day should have been a harbinger of things to come. What I thought were tears of happiness were actually tears of...A WARNING! Let me keep it short and simple: the honeymoon ended quicker than it began. The demons that plagued our relationship before came back to haunt us. Accusations of me cheating and lying. Myself getting thrown out of the house. I'm tellin' ya, makes for a lovely relationship, doesn't it?

Now, I'll admit that I could have tried harder to make the marriage work But for the record , the cheating accusations were unfounded. Still, around August 15, 1997- a week or two after I had nearly became roadkill on a Columbus street (after, of course, Leah and I had gotten into yet another patented argument), Leah told me "Good-bye, Darren". I threw my hands up and said "Fine". About 36 hours after Leah and myself said our "fuck yous", I left for Cincinnati, Ohio (100 miles down Interstae 71). Three months later, I left for the west coast, and never looked back. To this day, I have never returned to Columbus, and to be honest, despite making numerous of plans to do so, I don't think that I'll ever return to Columbus. Ever. Too much pain (and it's not just with Leah, either.).



The marriage died a quick death. I had learned- the hard way that I wasn't exactly marriage material. And I still believe that- at nearly 38 years of age- I'm not marriage material (but that's another subject for another day). Yes, I'll go for a few long-term relationships, but it may be awhile before I even do that. I'm not exactly the one-woman type (for those who saw the 'bisexual' story above, for the record, I've since became 'straight', or heterosexual. A gradual process, but with no help from those 'ex-gay' ministries, which I think are nothing more than scams, to be honest with you). Seeing different women works for me. Hell, a menage a trois or two...BRING IT ON!

As for tying the knot again...Eh-eh!

*The names- unless otherwise noted- have been changed to protect the identities

Copyright (C) 2005, by Darren W. Alexander. All Rights Reserved.