I was at a family get together the other night and committed a serious faux pas. I was asked if I would ever remarry should my husband die early. Without hesitation, and holding back food in my mouth from spewing out with laughter, I unquestioningly said, ‘NO WAY! Never again.' Then realizing that, once again I was getting caught speaking without thinking, I added ‘Oops, was that out loud?' After all, this was my mother in law asking the question. This was her baby she was talking about. Now I had to politely back pedal and explain myself, trying not to insult her with my diatribe on marriage.

I always thought I had a pretty good relationship with my mother in law. Considering the odds, I felt pretty lucky. But this was a conversation that could turn ugly if I wasn't careful. She was divorced, and she never remarried, not that it was any of my business. That was one topic I steered clear of. So I was a bit taken aback when she proposed the question to me.

It wasn't like I hadn't thought this thing through. My husband is a ticking time bomb. His family history consists of heart disease, colon cancer and high blood pressure. It's enough to warrant he be barred from ever procreating, let alone surviving. As if that weren't enough, he makes sure to compound the damage with excessive eating, drinking and smoking. His idea of exercise is riding around in a golf cart with a cooler full of beer, stopping occasionally to a hit a ball between sips. So yes, the idea of being a young widow has crossed my mind. Throw a few kids into the mix, and you wonder about future security, companionship, and personal happiness. But then you have to go back to why you got married in the first place. That was an easy one for me; I got pregnant, and no, not on purpose to get married. At 32, I was way too mature to pull that old trick. I got pregnant from faulty birth control. It was his fault; he wasn't wearing any. Luckily for us, love had preceded conception, so marriage was a no brainer.

Six years and three kids later, marriage had taken on a whole new meaning. The idealism of the perfect wedding was far behind me. The many realities of life had settled in: working, raising children, paying bills, cleaning, cooking, laundry, not to mention trying to maintain a relationship with my spouse. Each morning I would wake up only to find out it was Groundhog Day all over again. In the best relationship, with or without kids, this can be stressful. It's why so many relationships end in divorce. So the idea of marrying again just boggles my mind. ‘Take a lover.' That was my stance. Now, tell that to my mother in law.

I didn't. Instead I prattled on about my fear of dating while raising children. You know, explaining the two types of men available to single moms: divorced men with children and all the baggage that comes along with that deal, or pedophiles preying on your belief that there might actually be a man out there who could love your children as much as you. It's just they neglect to tell you there'd be fondling involved that didn't include you. I'd rather just stick with my vibrator until my ‘lover' came along.

Look, I love my husband, and I pray nothing ever happens to him, because lets face it, there isn't anybody else out there who could put up with me. But if it did happen, in all honesty, I really would never get married again.

With a look of sadness, my mother in law disagreed with me, and said I would change my mind, God forbid. I knew I wouldn't, but I gave a comforting nod, just to give her some hope. Then before she could walk away, I mustered up the courage to say, ‘Mom, can I ask you just one question?' She said, ‘Go ahead,' so I said, ‘How come you never got remarried after your divorce?' Without hesitation she replied, ‘Oh God, sex with the same man for the rest of my life? Never again!' With the wink of an eye, she walked away laughing, and I smiled to myself; she did get it after all.