Isn’t life ironic? I married young, divorced, married again at thirty. I had two kids from my first marriage, nightmares from my second marriage, and ended up with the most unlikely man in the world. We will celebrate our twentieth anniversary in about two weeks.
I spent five years madly in love with a doctor, seven years madly in love with a lawyer and the last nineteen years madly truly deeply in love with Alex, my Navajo Indian husband. I met Alex when he was a very young sailor, I think he was twenty-two and I was in my mid/late thirties. Alex was leaving on a six-month cruise the morning after we met at the top of the Hyatt Regency in San Francisco. I had come in for a drink after work; Alex and a group of his friends were celebrating their last night on terra firma for a while.
I was immediately enchanted with this lovely boy/man with the black hair, eyes, and gorgeous brown skin. I thought Alex was Mexican, and was intrigued when he told me he was Navajo. I gave him my business card and told him if he wrote to me, I’d write to him. There was a maturity and a “presence” to Alex. I really liked him. I was delighted when I got his first letter, and hurried to respond.
Alex shared his experiences on the aircraft carrier with me, as well as his visits to the various ports. He was a delightful pen pal. I wrote to him at least twice a week and he wrote me at least that often. I wrote about bad romantic encounters I was having, he wrote about good ones he was having! This guy was my good buddy and we shared everything, good and bad. We shared our feelings about life, what the future would hold, beliefs, politics, family, you name it, we discussed it.
When Alex finally got back to the US, he called from San Diego and we had a lovely conversation. We continued to talk about once a week, and then Alex was off on another cruise. This was a shorter trip, up to Alaska. We continued to write each other for another six months or so, and Alex finally came up to San Francisco for a visit. I made a big effort to take him to see all the sights and completely enjoyed his visit. Alex was the first man I’ve ever know who I was completely myself with, and I know he had no artifice about him at all.
Another six months passed and Alex came up around the Christmas holidays. We went to a party and drank a bit much and ended up in my bed that night. When we awakened, we both realized how right this was. I’ve never looked back.
When Alex’s four-year enlistment was over, he moved from San Diego where he had been stationed to San Francisco. He got a job immediately as an airplane mechanic and enrolled in college to complete his undergraduate degree. We lived together for six months before we married. I listened to a lot of “commentary” from friends (and family for that matter). What was I doing marrying a man fifteen years younger than me? What was I thinking marrying a man without a great job and sound finances? What was I thinking? I was thinking that I was getting married to a man I would love forever. That’s what I was thinking.
I did wonder that nobody criticized me for marrying a man eighteen years my senior, or had a long term love affair with a lawyer twenty-two years my senior. Oh wait, they were both affluent. Is that what it’s all about? The irony of all this is that Alex completed college with is BS in Computer Science about the time that the Dot.Com era exploded in California and has been earning at least four times my maximum salary ever since. To say we are “sitting pretty” would be an exaggeration, but we are certainly financially secure. And what’s even more important, we’re happy.
