The fun part about marriage is that eventually, all the things that made dating such a wonderful escape -- the new sex, the feeling that someone has finally gotten you and can never misunderstand, the feeling that someone in the world is literally waiting by the phone for you to call -- totally disappears after marriage, and what's left is what you had before ... you.

You have all the same fears, the same selfishness, the same secrets you might not admit even to yourself, the same prejudices, the same tendency to reduce other people to black and white, the same abilities to misconstrue even your spouse's choices as ones intended to be hostile toward you. You're left with yourself, but your spouse is a better mirror than anyone else.

Friends and acquaintances can be fooled, but even the most high-in-the-sky husband or wife eventually comes down to earth, and knows who you are. And you betray them, because you're human -- not necessarily with infidelity, or even any malice, but because of your weakness or self-absorption. And when you do, you have to earn forgiveness, but all the time your spouse knows who you are and the places you could go on a bad day. 

Having this type of mirror held up to yourself is tough. And I think it's no wonder that now the divorce doesn't necessarily lead to a lifetime of social stigma, that people trade out these relentless, all-seeing mirrors before too many years go by for someone new and fresh who doesn't necessarily see who they are, right away. I can see how that would be a big break, a feeling of infinite possibility (and I've only been married for a year). 

Still, I'm grateful for what marriage has to offer me in terms of seeing who I really am. I'm forced to either grow as a person, or hurt my husband repeatedly by telling him he's something much smaller and colder than he really is, out of my own fear or ignorance. It's a tough choice.

Filling out the "interest" section of the profile seems kind of revealing. It's like being a pre-teen again, taking those little quizzes in magazines, and feeling like you learned something. Oh, so I am the kind of person that likes John Lennon, wants to have a certain kind of wedding (cheap), is childless but wishes she weren't, comes from a dysfunctional family, benefits from a lot of good therapy. I am the kind of person who thinks marriage is hard. Not surprising.

I go to very expensive therapy, usually about every two weeks. I say "very expensive" with pride because I found the first therapist who was ever able to help me (and here I am, almost 37 years old) and I still can hardly believe that I'm better than I was.

My first marriage was very damaging; 10 long years of one Dark Night of the Soul after another. I chose a man who would dump me on the roadside without a thought (and did), and took on armies full of problems that were his, and tried to solve them, at great cost. In other words, the classic codependent. In all fairness I didn't love him, although after awhile I convinced myself otherwise. We married for legal reasons, a nasty custody case, and for that reason I consider my current husband my first.

My current husband, Chris, is everything I'm not. I'm an oldest child, and he's the baby of the family. Although it's been said before, I just came across an article pointing out that these kinds of marriages have a lot to offer, but can also drive you crazy. I am a nagging, critical perfectionist. He is terrible with money, cars and yard work, and barely knows how to change a lightbulb. He's also insanely funny, creative, loyal, loving and a terrific father to his three daughters.

He's made so many poor financial decisions that I pay all our living expenses, save some of the food, and his car and gas. Having a child together is out of the question. I grew up without money and refuse to put a child through that. If we had a child I'd be worse off than a single parent, because there'd be no one else to give of their time or money, however inconsistently. That sucks, but life doesn't always serve up exactly what you want.

I grew up in a cold family, and inherited a lot of compulsions about doing, instead of being. Sometimes I measure my marriage by a "doing" yardstick, and judge it a failure. I have strong feelings about financial contributions when it comes to marriage. I remember writing a bitter essay in high school about people who were parasites in their marriage, because they didn't contribute financially. I was determined not to be one, and I certainly never planned to marry one.

My ex was pretty good at bringing home the bacon when he worked, which was most of the time. I worked hard too but may a lot less money. By my 'doing' POV, I was the parasite, but the marriage was good. By the being POV, my ex was incapable of caring for me in any way, and my efforts to bring in money were equally valid, not to mention I was attempting to parent his three kids singlehandedly.

Sometimes I look at my current marriage and just blanche. We can't have a kid, but I have to deal with three stepkids (who, by the way, are total sweethearts). Chris doesn't even pay for the utilities. What's worse, he soaks me here and there, borrowing money and never paying it back. He can't pay it back because he's too busy bouncing checks. Little repairs around the house? I do them, or I pay for them. Yardwork? Occasionally there's a nice surprise in store, and he's pretty good about sharing the mowing, but the lion's share falls to me for sure.

So from one POV this marriage is a miserable failure. His last ex-wife thought so too. She left Chris for a very wealthy man when their child was about a year old. They now live in a looming mcMansion where she raises one daughter who lives like a princess. This little girl's college was completely paid for at age five by a doting grandfather. She'll enjoy everything life has to offer, and of course, Chris pays child support on top of it. I'm jealous of what this woman has. I would kill to have the beautiful daughter in the giant house who eagerly looks forward to having it all, and knows nothing about getting by or cutting corners.

Chris and I buy our clothes at the thrift store. Right now, my business makes pretty good money, but with me paying all our expenses and shelling out for self-employment tax on top, there isn't much left over. It's stressful. 

And yet I know that if I got the cancer today and my hair fell out and I became a walking bag of skin and bones, Chris would walk with me all the way. Because he really, truly loves me, and he's the first person to do so.

Ah, the freedom to write what I want, and not worry if an ex-husband is reading, or someone anonymous who may/may not be a friend, or people who I'd just prefer not to know. It's like upgrading to a larger house. Which speaking of ...

... as mentioned, there's a little financial tension Chez Nous over finances. And money looms large as I go over my zillion-entry accounting records for tax season 2006. Accounting is never been one of my strengths, and I pretty much ignored it all year. You'd think the fallout would be fatal, but it looks like (thanks to gmail) I've reconstructed about 95% of those blank-faced entries, pretty accurately. And I've got religion at the moment, so for a while at least, my 2007 records won't be such a stinking pile of crap.

I'm taking a vacation this week (other than taxes). It's a delicate state of mind. Also, the universe is conspiring, since none of my potential interviewees have responded to any of my e-mails, which is rare. And then, spring sprung. I spent an entire day in bed eating a multitude of Dove dark chocolates and devouring The Time Traveler's Wife. This is very unusual behavior for me. I'm compulsively driven when it comes to my business.

And then, I have these binders with my financial records, and I actually went to the bank today, and actually made two deposits of that my personal checks wouldn't get mixed up with my business checks, and that's so different from normal behavior too that it almost qualifies as pathological.

Night times ... after quitting coffee, I was going to bed on time, but lately I have such a girlish "ooh, I get to stay up as long as I want!" feeling going, I'm hitting the sack closer to 4 a.m. again.

Does everyone have crushes on people they're not married to?

I have star crushes, mostly men but including Scarlett Johansson. I find her strangely erotic. So sue me.

I have a lingering crush on a former boss who is this hyper-literate, fluent-French speaking mental giant with full lips in an other Germanic physique and a wicked sense of humor. We chat periodically.

I have an indefinable something for very old friend who propped me up and comforted me when my last husband dumped me. It was him, I think, that gave me a sense that something good could be found in men after all that. I don't talk to him much now because I find this dynamic complicated.

That's about it for me.

In my next true confessions episode, I'll explain exactly what makes me a bitter, jealous wife who wishes she had what my husband's ex has. No, I'm not proud.