My first marriage was such a cliché, with all the elements of a B-class movie, from the dreamy romance of the young lovers, the disproval of the conservative and rich parents, to the impulsive elope, fiery family conflicts, teary compromises, vows of undying love, and the predictable heart-breaking finale, divorce.
Although I don’t really blame him, we were both too naïve then, but I do believe he was too weak and quick to give in to family pressure, after hiding our marriage from his parents for 5 years.
I know he did love me before, but it was just not enough for him to stand up to his parents who refused to let their eldest son and the heir to the family business empire marry (openly) to a foreigner from a middle-class family.
He had to fly to Dominican Republic to get the divorce done. I didn’t ask for any alimony, because I didn’t marry him for money. All I wanted was to have my freedom back.
But most of all, I have been keeping it quiet. I don’t feel the need to stir up a scandal and cause any trouble. Now he is remarried with an heiress whose daddy owns a football team and a city in North Japan. They have 3 kids.
I am only too glad I got out before I went completely mental!