Marriage Insider

Marriage is not a long running Adulation Festival, whereby you are the rock star and your spouse is the groupie. It doesn’t work like that. No matter how great you think your spouse thinks you are, eventually your ugly little flaws, lying dormant beneath the shiny gold-plated veneer of untested love, will emerge and your spouse will mention them in an argument; or worse- as casual, constructive, criticism.

I have a tendency to nurture a flourishing, superiority complex. My dear imaginary friends, sometimes I think I am better. My unattractive affectation is reserved for members of my birth family; I am tolerant of others. I can’t remember the exact occasion when my husband mentioned the abhorrent behavior but I can recall what a crushing blow it was to realize that somehow the pedestal I was on had toppled and he didn’t think I was as perfect as I’d led him to believe. Instead, he thought I was a snooty, snob to my own family.
To keep you apprised of the situation, if my siblings are going to behave like slackers they’ll be treated like slackers. They know better, and I know they know better. My husband is excessively permissive. I, on the other hand, have standards!

The cash spent on pretty gifts and baubles during your courtship will, at some point, dry up. You may have a discussion over a fifty dollar footstool. It will be a conversation that is entirely alien to you and one that you are resistant to engage in. You will probably keep the footstool because you paid for it with your own damn money. Decades later you may mention to your husband that you’d like to have it reupholstered. He will tell you that he likes it the way it is. You won’t get it reupholstered because you love him and the silly thing is a testimony to your alliance.

You will, more than likely, endure financial hardship. You will have to do without so that others can make do. For us, doing without has meant that the descendants  have been provided for and that the steady stream of sick and dying people in our families have been cared for with love. We struggled through several years when catastrophic illness and death were the main themes in our lives. We learned to rely exclusively on each other. There was plenty of disagreement about the best way to achieve our objectives. In the end, we did what was best for our people, which was best for us.

The “in sickness and in health” clause in the wedding vows is most important. There is nothing more painfully exhausting than loving someone who is seriously ill or injured. In those instances, the inside is far more important than the outside. There will be days when you want reassurance but you can’t request it from your spouse because your job is to provide it.

If you are lucky, you will get old together. What was firm will become flabby. When you recline your bodies will spread out like pancakes on a hot griddle. You will admire each other’s deterioration. You will offer endearing encouragements on the steady march of decline. You won’t care that you’re not as physically attractive as you once were. You’ll be happy to have each other because nothing else matters.

“…it is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” Antoine de Saint-Exupéry


About elroyjones

Married, no children, responsibly self-directed, living happily.
This entry was posted in Marriage and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

19 Responses to Marriage Insider

  1. I can’t decide how much I like this post. I mean, it is all true. And well written. But it sort of makes me a little sad too.

    • elroyjones says:

      Why does it make you sad? Sad in the way that we are getting older and that what once was isn’t the way it used to be; nostalgic-sad?

      • Yeah. I didn’t mean it was depressing. It just sort of cast too bright of a light on the whole thing.

      • elroyjones says:

        I know what you mean. When my husband used to come in from trip fishing offshore, I’d be awake peeking out the window in the middle of the night because I knew intuitively that they’d come in that night. I’d hear his key in the lock and I’d race to the door and jump on him arms and legs wrapped tight. He’d smell so good, like fresh air and the leather bomber jacket he wore then. His hair was in black ringlets and his mustache was black, when he smiled my whole world lit up. Now his hair is almost all grey, the ringlets have been gone for a while, and I wouldn’t dare jump for fear I’d injure one of us.

      • I would stay away from a job writing wedding cards.

      • elroyjones says:

        Ironically, this piece was inspired by an impending wedding.

  2. maesprose says:

    I’m reading this while flying in a plane and I want to howl with laughter over the lines… “What was firm will become flabby. When you recline your bodies will spread out like pancakes on a hot griddle.” I LOVE that. I like your answer above too!

  3. John says:

    From one reclining, spread-out pancake to another: wonderful post!

  4. epiwah says:

    I see old people.

    • elroyjones says:

      Does that mean old people are visible to you or is you comment more of a declarative sentence- “I see, old people.”

      • epiwah says:

        More of a scary movie “I see dead people” whisper. The kind you feel when you live in FL and are an ultra runner who is constantly almost struck by their cars as they stare blindly into the distance. The kind you feel when your wife asks you if you want to live with her dad.

      • elroyjones says:

        I lived on the Gulf Coast when I was in my late 20s. I was alone in a sea of blue hair. I loved the climate and the vegetation and the beach but it was very lonely for a young single person. People over a certain age should not be allowed to drive; reaction time slows, vision fails, hearing goes, very dangerous.

      • epiwah says:

        They should be asked to hit a baseball or something. Because its not just vision – it’s coordination. If you can see but you can barely walk it won’t do any good when you need to hit the brake.

  5. Well said, and true — but I suspect that footstool will still matter.

    • elroyjones says:

      Of course, that footstool matters. Once that wobbly, old, pedestal toppled I bought the footstool to regain some stature. Since I still have it, I won!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s