You never know what’s going to stir up the Memory Monster. Like this Metafilter post about matching couples.
It’s something I've long had a prejudice about. I find it adorable in young or elderly couples, but disturbing in middle-aged ones. It’s only recently that I realized why – Mom took to buying matching stuff for her and Dad a couple of years before the split, in what seemed to me a misguided and doomed attempt to patch up a failing marriage. Coats, moon boots, slippers, sleeping bags, sweatsuits, the whole nine yards. Yes, it was practical to get two of the same when stuff was on sale, but even that looked a bit desperate to me. “See what a good wife I am, saving us money?”
Yeah, it’s taken me a while to come to terms with that period, and even to admit that it affected me at all. I’ve got to give her credit for trying. Nobody can ever say that she didn’t give it one hundred percent, and that kind of commitment has to be admired. But it hurt like hell to see her being a doormat, especially when it seemed so obvious it wasn’t going to work.
With every passing year I feel guiltier for having the gall to judge her choices to begin with. By the time she was my age she was married and divorced, had three children, lost one of them, helped build a freaking house, moved - for love - far away from her family of origin, and jumped back into the workforce after a fifteen-year absence after having her confidence shattered by years of gasligthing, all while battling her own chronic health problems.
Women judgin’ women. Maybe we ARE all coo coo crazypants after all.