The Marrying Type

For as long as I can remember, people have always joked about my name. As a kid, I was Ms. Wrong or for the more clever, Ms. Left (ha! Does that ever get old) later, boys/men called me 'Ms. Right'. This is simply because my last name is Wright and later it became a rather cute double entendre.

But then as a young adult, Ms. Right took on a more negative connotation. "You're Ms. Right, the marrying type. I don't want to marry anyone, not even Ms. Right, right now." "I wish we'd meet, like in ten years...then I'd be ready to settle down." "I can't date you. You're Ms. Right! I'm Mr. Wrong, trust me." (The last statement never needed repeating...I typically ran and never looked back!)

I was always thrown by these statements. How did they know that *I* wanted to marry *them*? And what's with this marrying collar they'd assign me? Very early on, something about marriage inherently bothered me. Proposals...yes, I'd decided that three were in order, but marriage??? Soon the boys/men who assigned me title, 'the marrying type' began to bother me even more.

I inquired about this "Ms. Right" thing. His name was Charlie. He'd told my best friend that he couldn't see me...you guessed it, I was Ms. Right (and I don't think he knew my last name). So I confronted him. I had nothing to lose and only his perspective to gain.

"Charlie, you told Elana that you didn't want to go out with me..."

"No. No. I told her I couldn't."

"Why?"

"I don't know. You're so...you're too..." He searched his mind for the most tactful way to explain it. I helped him out, desperate to know.

"What? You think I want to marry you?"

"No, not that. I may want to marry you, and I don't think I'm ready to. You're special. Different from the other girls."

Huh. I could live with that. Whatever. I considered myself lucky to leave unscathed by bad boys who would ultimately scar me in some fashion. Slowly, I got over my aversion to the title. And then I met Carol.

Carol is a very eccentric woman, who upon meeting me, looked at my left ring finger and said, "Marriage will always be a problem for you."

"Excuse me?"

"The mole on your left finger. Your relationships will be fine until you marry. You're not the marrying type!"

I was married at the time and not necessarily happily so. I considered her words. How would she know, she merely saw a mole! And then I thought back to my youth, and how I had a natural aversion to marriage. Defensively, I alerted her to the fact that many people have deemed me the marrying type. I was now holding on to the title that had once vexed me.

"Oh dear. Yes, yes you are. You're very well matched to almost anyone...it's just that once you get married, well, you start to have problems."

Sensing a prediction (I live for predictions) I grinned ear to ear and asked, "So, will I get married again?"

Carol smiled back, "Maybe...probably. You're stubborn too. Perhaps you should live with him first?"

This from a 60+ year old woman was more than I could take. But, I liked her moxie and I was 'okay' with her prediction. I thought back to the boys who'd collared me 'the marrying type', perhaps they'd sensed something, glancing at the mole on my finger, a warning and just misplaced the sentiment?

Huh! Something to think about...