I must admit, when the news broke about Kim Kardashian’s breakup from her grey eyed hunka husband Kris Humphries, I too joined the country in a great big LOL and an “I saw that one coming”. Being one of the many reality show junkies in my circle of friends, I knew that something in the milk wasn’t clean and that as much as I wanted to believe it was going to work, deep down I knew it was destined for divorce court. What I didn’t expect though was to feel any type of kinship to Princess Kim. I mean, she’s loaded. I’m not. Her mom pimped her royally. Mine did not. (I was chosen to be on the Mickey Mouse Club when I was little and my mama was like hell no I’m not leaving my job and moving to Orlando.) She has dated some of the hottest (and not so hot i.e. Ray-J) guys around. My exes, awesome, handsome, but no Reggie Bush. But when I read her statement she posted on her blog last night explaining her decision to leave Kris, my heart went out to her, because I was her.
In 2003, after dating a really nice guy for 5 years, he proposed. I was 23. I was finishing law school and was on the tail end of the 1st round of wedding fever. You know those things go in rounds. When you graduate college, there is a 2-3 year round when half your friends are getting married. Wait another 5-7 years and round 2 will begin with the other half of friends AND some of those who particiated in the first round and were back at it for round 2 sans the “starter spouse”. Anyhoo, I told my boyfriend NOT to propose to me. I had been living out-of-state and away from him for 3 years. I asked him to wait until I returned to the same zip code he was in so we could be sure we were the same people we were when I left. He ignored me. Proposed 2 months later. And what did I do, I said yes. Why? Because I felt like I was supposed to. It was time. It was too embarassing to say “didn’t I tell you not to do this”. My mother was on her way to my apartment and surely she already knew what was happening at that moment. He had spent his hard earned money on a ring. All of our friends were friends. All of his frat brothers had become my real brothers and best friends. I couldn’t say no. So I said yes. And then it began.
Unlike Kim Kardashian, I avoided the hoopla by saying I had to study for the Bar Exam. Clearly not an issue for Kimmie. That BARELY worked as my fiancee kept pushing me to set a date and plan our wedding and move in with him. It was a whirlwind that I couldn’t figure out why I wanted to get out of. It wasn’t that I didn’t love him. It was that my heart had decided some time before then that it was no longer in it. My head just hadn’t caught up before the day he asked me to be his wife. And since we are taught to think with our heads and not our hearts, I said yes. But after that 2 day exam, there I was, returned to the whirlwind. And i let it pick me up like the tornado did Dorothy and when I landed I was in Priscilla of Boston picking out wedding dresses. As the attendant went to the back to prepare my dressing room, I waited in the front with one of my best friends, and all of sudden burst out into tears. Not silent tears. Audible, hyperventilating sobs. And I lamented “WHAT AM I DOING HERE?!?!” My friend went into full protective mode and said “It’s ok, its ok, its ok! Calm down. Just because we are here does NOT mean you have to get married.” After 10 minutes I could breathe. I even stayed to try on dresses. Each time coming out of the room and looking at her saying “this doesn’t mean I HAVE to do this right?”, to which she replied each time “Right”. We got in the car and headed home and she asked me a question I will never forget. She said “If who he is today, right now, is as good as it gets, for the rest of your life, is that enough.” It took me a week to answer that question. And the answer was no. And although it was the hardest thing I ever had to do to tell that man I didn’t want to marry him after all, it was the best thing I could’ve done. And even though I felt like a complete failure, and often still do when it comes to relationships, one of my other close friends told me that I was the bravest person she knew.
And that’s the moral of Kim’s tragic story: she needs more people. I didn’t know HOW to be brave. I didn’t know HOW to walk away. It was the hardest decision I ever had to make at that time. I, unlike Kim, had people who made it possible for me to make that decision BEFORE I spent my mama and daddy’s good money on a reception site off Biscayne Bay and a fancy white dress. I get loving how “love” feels and wanting a husband
and babies. Not everyone wants all of that. Me & Kim do! We want it so badly that we often keep people in our lives for longer than they should because we hold on to the hope that THIS will be the one that gives me what I’ve been waiting for. Yearning for. Watching and envying our sisters and friends who have found what we so desperately want. But that’s the greatest thing about having more people. Regular-ass people, may I add. Not celebrities, not rich, not fancy. Regular ass people. Who fight with their wives, cheat on their husbands, get worn down by their kids, and come back every day to make it work. Kim needs more people. I love my people.