Munchausen Marriage - Part I

I never stopped to think what married life would be like with Werner Forman. I really didn’t know my partner very well, and from the beginning I could sense that things were going to grow stranger and more confusing with each day. 

THIS IS PART 1 of a TEN-PART STORY

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

I never stopped to think what married life would be like with Werner Forman. He was eccentric, I knew that. A small, nimble man who could climb an ancient ruin carrying all his camera equipment like a goat, who was obsessed with work and travel and never seemed to stay in one place for very long. At forty-nine years old, he was still extremely handsome with longish, fly-away hair, bright blue eyes, and a chiseled face that made people turn around and stare at him as if to wonder who this person was, and where they might have seen him before.

He spoke with a thick accent, mispronouncing many words. “Clothes,” for instance, in his mouth was “Clo-thus,” and “this” was “ziss.” But most of all he was mysterious. Up until this point, our lives had been totally about travel. Now, suddenly, we had a domestic life together, and I really didn’t know my partner very well. I didn’t know myself very well, for that matter, at the beck and call of an older, influential man who, because of his age and stature, I allowed to dominate me. I wanted to be a writer. I had always wanted to be a writer, and now I had the opportunity to quietly work on a bunch of short stories. We had moved into a large flat in Hampstead -- wood-planked floors, a big kitchen with a view over a beautiful back garden -- and here I’d install myself with a pack of cigarettes and my portable Olivetti typewriter. If I got very stuck for words, I’d sometimes also pour myself a wee glass of scotch that I’d park, just at my elbow, in case I needed it. In college I’d been a comp lit major, but I’d dropped out of school with one term left to go in order to be with Werner Forman. So I had no real credentials, was just a young pretty girl with a certain sophistication and a gift for words. 

Years later, I would wonder if Werner had married me for a green card. He was no fool.

I was the daughter of wealthy, art-collecting parents, and my businessman father was connected to all sorts of important people, including Senator Jacob Javitz who apparently ultimately pulled a string or two. If Werner went the green card route it would mean spending at least three consecutive months a year in the US. If he just went on living in London, he’d eventually accrue enough time for citizenship. In the beginning of our marriage, he tried to do both, and I got to experience, up close and personal, what a strange and mysterious man he was.

Cover Image: Werner Forman at a photo shoot

Next: Read Munchausen Marriage Part 2 >>