A Love That Was to Live Forever Dies on Wedding Day

He came into the office, an average-looking man but appearing younger than his 75 years, carrying a two-page typed statement of his version of love gone sour.

He has been wronged by the woman of his dreams, he said. She promised to love him forever and be the perfect wife and then, boom, just like that it was over.

Always a sucker for a sad love story, I pulled up a chair for him, wishing I’d had a gin and tonic and a couple of glasses.

I’ll call him John and his love interest Mary, but those are aliases. After hearing him out, it seemed that this isn’t a story about two specific people, but about the human condition.

John has been a widower for several years after a long marriage. Earlier this year he met Mary, a woman in her 60s, at a dance class where senior citizens learn to fox trot. He liked her style, her vibrancy, her utter lack of inhibition about tripping the light fantastic with him.

“She was nicer to me than anyone in my whole life ever was,” he said. “She was the only person in the world who told me I was handsome. Of course, looking back now, it was just part of her scheme.”

They started dating immediately. He took her to a dinner theater and to nice restaurants. He’d go to her place and she’d make healthy fruit or vegetable drinks for him.

“I was taking her out to dinner, taking her to McDonald’s for breakfast. I’d give her things, like See’s candies. I’d fix things. I gave her a fancy shower head on a flex cable. I fixed a kitchen sink. I fixed the towel rack. I got her a good can opener. I did everything I could for her. I stayed at her place after a few weeks, but there was no hanky-panky or anything.”

Quickly, John said, they began discussing marriage. “I wish now I’d had some therapy or consultation, but I was so sure it was the real thing because of her assurances. She assured me she’d be a good wife. She said she’d be true forever.”

Convinced that marriage was in the offing, John told Mary he didn’t like her credit card situation. Too much outstanding balance at too much interest. He insisted on paying it off, and he did, to the tune of $6,900.

Six weeks after they met, John and Mary drove to Las Vegas and got married. They drove back to Orange County that night for a dance and had what, according to John, was their first argument since they met.

On their wedding night, he said, Mary slept on the couch, contending that he snored. “That caused me apprehension, because I knew that I did not snore,” John said.

Same thing the next night, except that John slept on the couch. The next morning, Mary told John she wanted the marriage “erased.” She told him he was a cheapskate, John said, because he hadn’t paid an admission fee for her friends at the dance two nights earlier. The fee was $5.

“I said I can’t be a cheap person when I paid all your debts,” he said he told her. She wrote him a check on the spot for the full $6,900--a check that didn’t clear.

By now, the bloom was off the rose. The marriage was annulled, and John took Mary to small claims court, trying to salvage at least the $5,000 maximum he could win there. He lost the case.

John agreed to give me Mary’s phone number to get her version of things.

Why did you fall for him? I asked her.

“He deceived me,” Mary said. “He played the very, very generous person. The first date he bought me a dinner-theater ticket. Then he took me to San Marcos to a very, very classy restaurant. Then he took me another time to an expensive restaurant. . . . He wanted to go to Hawaii, and he was a generous, classy man. Then, I hate to tell you something--he started taking me to McDonald’s for breakfast, because of being cheap. He was taking sugar and little things home from McDonald’s in his pocket. I didn’t like that.”

Mary said John started meddling in her affairs with her three children. “I thought he was the best man for me,” she said. “Then he started criticizing me.”

Even as they were getting married, Mary said, she realized she’d made a mistake. By the time she got back to Orange County that night, she decided it was best to cut her losses.

And the bills he paid?

She said John insisted on paying them. She said she doesn’t have much money, but said, “If I ever have money, believe me, I will pay that money off.”

She might have by now, she said, but she became infuriated when he sued her. “He claims he’s in love with me. Do you call this love?”

Were you ever in love with him? I asked.

“I was very hungry for love,” she said. “I thought he was the man I would be secure with all my life. But love? No, not love.”

Like I said, a sad tale.

When was the last time you saw Mary? I asked John.

“At the dance, Saturday before last. I looked at her. I saw her, and she saw me. We didn’t say anything. I tried to convince myself how lucky I was not to be married to her.”

No pangs?

“It hurts, especially when I’ve been so good at saving money. But it isn’t the finances alone; it’s the being let down. Just being tricked. I don’t have many years left to settle down and find happiness. I certainly don’t like going to that empty room every night.”

John, you didn’t necessarily solicit my advice, but here it is:

I don’t think Mary was conning you. She shouldn’t have let you pay off her credit card bills, under any circumstances, but you shouldn’t have been so insistent, either. I know your heart and head got mixed up, but, let’s face it, however much in love you thought you were, you rushed things.

As for the money, it’s probably gone forever, but look at it this way--by your own admission, you had six fantastic weeks. Whether you think Mary meant it or not, she convinced you that you were a dashing, handsome son-of-a-gun. The marriage may be erased, but not the good times you had with her.

Take that confidence and unleash it on someone else.

But, please, next time call me before you get married.