When I was an obnoxious teenager, I listened to my parents have a conversation about how yawns are contagious. Yawning, I interrupted them. “You guys have had this conversation before. In fact, you’ve had it several times. Why do you keep talking about it? Marriage is so boring. I’m never getting married.”
Kind and wise, they didn’t argue with me or let their feelings get hurt. I remember they actually changed the conversation to be all about me. I didn’t object, of course, and I’m sure we had a very riveting conversation — with such a subject matter, how could the conversation have been anything but fascinating?
This weekend, my husband and I will celebrate our seventh year of wedded bliss. In our seven years, we’ve had multiple conversations more than once. I think that’s just how relationships go — the two people are interested in the same things, and so they revisit the same topics over and over. Every now and then, we’ll realize we’re having the same conversation we’ve had a dozen times before, and we call a time-out. But most often, we just keep talking about the things we like to talk about. Because we like it.
- having the same conversation over and over, and not really caring.
- having somebody who knows the evolution of your most recent hangnail — from the first discovery to the painful bumps against the counter to the final removal and demise of the hangnail, your somebody has kept tabs on it all, and cares.
- rolling your eyes 1,000 times behind your spouse’s back.
- apologizing for the 900 times you get caught rolling your eyes.
- rolling your eyes 1,000 times before you realize how childish you can act.
- being forgiven 1,000 + 1 times for childish behavior.
- taking turns with the newborn so only one parent exists in zombie-land at a time.
- “checking out” at the end of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day — and knowing your spouse will take over.
- relinquishing personal space — and being fine with it.
- lots of touching.
- starting to complain about your tiny bathroom — but then realizing the small space forces you to bump into each other, and then being sickly sweet about the blessing of a small shared space.
- not caring if people are grossed out by your public displays of affection.
- stomping away as loudly as possible — to make sure your spouse understands the level of extreme your anger has reached, of course.
- sucking it up and apologizing.
- being selfish and not apologizing.
- sucking it up and apologizing not only for being rude, but for holding back the apology that should have been more forthcoming.
- finding it excruciatingly difficult to keep a surprise a secret.
- feeling positively giddy to secure a babysitter.
- missing. Lots of missing and wishing you could run a business together just so you don’t have to be apart during the day.
- snuggling so close during a movie you’re practically in each other’s laps.
- watching movies you don’t want to see.
- tripping over big shoes.
- stifling curses.
- dreaming of the future.
- reminiscing about the past — and wondering how you can still have so much to say about those early days of falling in love.
Happy Seven Years to My Forgiving, Snuggling, Caring About My Hangnails Husband. I’m not a bit bored.