I wrote in my diary two months after I met him something like "I know nothing can come of this relationship because he's an alcoholic and I won't marry an alcoholic."
How did I know at that point, when he was 20 and I was 21, that he was an alcoholic and "buyer beware"?
He was two hours late for our first date because he needed liquid reinforcement to bolster his courage before he picked me up. He had bought tickets for a Broadway play and we didn't get there until intermission. I dated him anyway.
He always took me to "his" bars--the same way people take people to their homes. I dated him anyway.
My mother was president of a charity guild and there was a big benefit event. She invited us. He found this loser guy to hang out with the whole time, and I couldn't get him to leave even after we were the only ones left. He passed out in his car, which I couldn't drive because I didn't know how to drive a manual, and so I slept all night in the tall grasses of the parking area. I dated him anyway.
My mother, seeing how much like my father he was, cried herself to sleep every night according to my stepfather. I dated him anyway.
My mother told me I was settling for crumbs when I deserved the whole cake. I dated him anyway.
That took place within the first two months of our meeting. Two years later, in spite of what I told "dear diary," I married him anyway.