White Lotus Honeymoon Reflection

All Too Familiar

All through Season One, watching this privileged young couple miserably honeymooning at an exclusive resort, I kept saying to my husband, “Oh my god, I have never before seen anything that reminded me so much of my honeymoon to “Nelson” (my ex-husband's alias, which I made up to use in my book, Instigator of Joy; Becoming my Own Fairy Godmother”). And each time, Paul paused the show, turned and looked at me, and said “I’m sorry.” And I said “thanks” and sighed, and he hit “play” and we would resume watching.

My first honeymoon took place in a series of luxury hotels and resorts in Hong Kong, Phuket and Bangkok. Doesn’t that sound fabulous? It wasn’t, at least not for me. As Rachel said to Shane over dinner during their luxury resort honeymoon, “when I am with you, I feel nothing but alone.”

Nothing is more lonely than being half a world away from home, alone with a man you had no business marrying in the first place. My first husband was an entitled brat who became increasingly furious toward the general manager of the resort where we stayed in Phuket, Thailand. He kept ranting to me about how clear it was that the man did not like Americans, but even at the time, during the second week of our marriage, I saw the situation clearly enough to think to myself “no, he just doesn't like you.”

Forewarned

I had been warned by a gypsy fortune teller to postpone the wedding. She closed her eyes, and warned me that he felt closer to his mother than he did to me, that he wanted to control me, that he would make my life miserable. Her advice resonated so deeply for me, but because of its source, nobody would take me seriously when I said I wanted to act upon it. It took me six years to extricate myself from that marriage, even though like Rachel in White Lotus, I declared to my husband’s face during year one that I was done. Like Shane, he simply stared down my disappointment and said he hoped I would change my mind.

I didn’t know anything about narcissistic personality disorder when I first became a bride, a result of being a sheltered 23 year old, but now, I know: when you marry a narcissist, the hunt is complete, the deal is done, the “romance” - which was only ever an act performed to achieve a goal - is so over.

Mortifying

Asian hospitality is delivered at a higher level than the generic attentiveness at the White Lotus, which meant strangers were constantly bearing witness to how thoroughly I was ignored by my new husband. This meant I was not only sad, disappointed and confused, I was also mortified. I sat at the breakfast table each day of our new married life, wearing one of a dozen carefully chosen new outfits I had packed for our honeymoon, surrounded by staff standing like so many sentries with trays, paying silent attention to us. Nelson sat across the table from me, reading the newspaper old school style, by which I mean hidden behind it, poring over the sports pages. He was monitoring the progress of the Cincinnati Reds, because somehow he knew they were on track to play in the World Series two months later. I don’t know, but maybe he felt a superstitious responsibility to check in on them every day. Or maybe he just had nothing to say to me.

First v. Second

Nelson had acquired me as an accessory to a life he had planned for himself; he never saw me as a fully realized and separate person. I watched in sad recognition as Rachel realized that was also the case with her new husband. I am curious to know if you have ever seen this situation depicted in TV or in a film before. As I said, this was the first time I had experienced something so reminiscent of my first honeymoon. I am happy to tell you - and pray it gives hope to those of you who need it - that I am happily remarried now and that I planned and enjoyed a wonderful “budget” honeymoon in Italy, where there was nobody watching us, and where there was plenty of space for my full personality to show up and be seen, known and loved.