Perhaps by then, she, like me, will be convinced that couples like Beyoncé and Jay-Z are far wiser for practicing guarded discretion. I used to be fed up with them — despite the infuriating obviousness of their marriage, they’ve never denied or confirmed anything. They keep their thrills and their little miseries to themselves. But as a result, they’ll never need to publicly repent should things turn sour. The rest of us, however, can’t seem to stop ourselves from ecstatically announcing what we have when it’s good. And so we’re doomed to watch each others’ status flicker and fade from blissful to heartbroken to uncertain and back. Because in the end, we asked for it.
There is one comfort, though: we’re bonded in our regret. We’re connected in our self-consciousness. And we’re united, sometimes, in our sorrow, on the very site that has magnified our pain.
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