Twanna A. Hines @ FUNKYBROWNCHICK.com | sex. dating. relationships.

You’re Beautiful Because You Admit You’re Not Perfect

Before I sat down to write the “How to Date Black Chicks” post, I scanned through new(ish) comments left on old(er) posts. SIDE NOTE: I’ve considered removing the date and timestamps from all my posts because the conversation often continues days, weeks or even years after I publish them. This, of course, is welcome. I read all comments — regardless when they’re left. Anyway, so, in January of this year, I wrote a post called “Is Marriage Worth It? I Say No.” Today, I read this new comment by a guy named Greg:

I returned this evening from dinner with a good friend. We are both in unsatisfying marriages and asked ourselves the same question. Amazing that I literally stumbled into your post after returning home.

I didn’t come up with a good answer when talking it over with my friend. I doubt I could come up with one now. All I know is that I have the choice to end it but, for some reason, I stay.

Perhaps the reason why has something to do with my parents’ marriage. For most of their 40-some years together, my parents cobbled together a relationship fractured by bitter fights, alcohol, financial troubles, infidelity and more. Some of those years, they barely spoke to each other. When they did, they occasionally discussed ending their marriage. But, they didn’t.

As life went on, they began to mellow. The struggles of all those years seemed to smooth their rough, unformed edges and polish their souls. In the end, they seemed to see something of the best of each other reflected back. It wasn’t passion so much as it was truth — the truth that, no matter how ugly things can get in a human life, the capacity to forgive and be forgiven will eventually bring out things far more beautiful than we imagine possible within ourselves. They were devoted to each other in those final years.

My parents passed away within 6 months of each other. My father was first to receive a diagnosis of terminal cancer. Distraught, my mother preceded him in death by dying suddenly four weeks after they were informed of his condition.

Were the last years of their life together worth the hard decades that preceded them? Could they have been happier if they had made different choices, perhaps avoiding marriage altogether? Could they have made something more of their lives? Perhaps. But the same could be said of any life. As one singer noted, “a thousand futures pass away with every choice we make.”

Instead, they stared down the stark consequences of the choice they made and the individuals they were. And, step by bitter step, they fought, forgave and forged on until, perhaps not even expecting it themselves, they became the people they aspired to be from the start — beautiful in each other’s eyes.

I don’t know if the same will happen in my marriage. The dynamic is different. We’re different people. Hanging around funky brown chicks may do wonders for me. My wife would probably see it differently.

Still, thanks for the question! And, thanks for a great blog filled with honesty and openness. I stumbled on you in a Twitter trend on as I fooling around with a new cell phone. One thing led to another…

Absolutely. Beautiful.

People who know me well know I’ve had waaaay too many hurtful experiences to pretend the world is perfect and/or relationships are always pretty. So, I’m usually drawn to the brutally honest, really deep and incredibly touching things some of you share about your personal lives. I know a lot of you disagree with some of the stuff I say (i.e. my ideas about marriage & kids … oh, and, yeah, I figured some readers would find yesterday’s How to Date a White Guy post a bit less “funny” than others) — but I’m okay with that. The world’s most interesting when people respectfully disagree.

I’ve said it too many times to count, but the comments section is one of my favorite things about this site. So, whatever, just a quick message to say THANK YOU for reading and sometimes commenting. File this one under Reader Appreciation.