Marriage is complicated
A woman once wrote, “I love when my husband says, ‘Correct me if I’m wrong,’ like I would pass up that opportunity.”
A few years ago, a woman who has remained anonymous fell overboard off her husband’s 39-foot sailboat. He didn’t realize she was no longer aboard and continued along the scheduled route. She swam to a nearby island and hours later was rescued by a passing boater who heard her cries for help. When questioned later, the husband stated that he thought she was below deck sleeping. The Coast Guard said there was no other information available. I think the Coast Guard didn’t want to mention that when the husband was reunited with the wife, he tried to explain how he was simply enjoying the uncommon silence, and upon the wife hearing this, it didn’t settle well. When the husband was able to see her again it was because the swelling had gone down enough in one eye to open it a little.
If this was an accurate depiction, and I’m fairly certain it was, I could totally relate to the wife. I’ve made clam dip for 40 years and last weekend I was stirring up a tub for a picnic. I took Gar a bite on a potato chip and asked if it seemed too salty. Putting the dip filled chip between his teeth, he smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a time or two, then like some kind of culinary connoisseur, sincerely announced, “No, but it’s a bit too sour-creamy.”
We’ve been married 44 years and I don’t know what I signed up for, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t it.
With Gar’s back problems, he’s unable to bend to his toes. We got out of the truck at a fast-food joint last week and I saw that Gar’s shoe was untied. As I knelt to retie it, I joked, “Somebody could see us and think I’m a victim of trafficking.”
Gar smiled weakly and shook his head, “I’m pretty sure if anybody was watching the two of us together, they’d say, ‘She’s not being bossed by him.’”
Gar says if I die, he’s not getting married again because he doesn’t want to go through what he calls the “cosmetic stage” of having to look good and smell good. Note: He loves Little Debbie donuts, but hates avocados. A friend lost her husband awhile back and recently met up with an old friend she’s known since they were in elementary school. He lost his wife a year ago and after seeing each other for only a few months, they decided to get married. We are very happy for them, but when we found out about the upcoming nuptials, I gave Gar a smirk, and with upraised eyebrows remarked, “If I die first, I want you to be happy, but I also want you to suffer a little. If you get married again right away, I’m gonna ask God if I can come down and put avocados in all your Little Debbie donuts.”
After all these years I think Gar thinks he really knows me, but every now and then wonders, “I thought she was as weird as she was ever gonna get, but here she is takin’ it to a whole new level.”
And that’s how I feel about him too in case he’s interested, which I seriously doubt he is.
This morning I said, “I got up in the night and forgot to check if the toilet seat was down, so sat on the porcelain and nearly dipped into the water.”
He stared at me blankly. Exasperated, I asked, “When you lift the seat, why don’t you put it back down?”
He shrugged, “When you put it down, why don’t you lift it back up?”
When King Conrad defeated the Duke Welf, and besieged Weinsberg, Germany in 1140, he told the women they could flee and granted them permission to take whatever they could tote on their backs. The wives abandoned their belongings in favor of carrying their husbands across their shoulders. Well, if this was ever to become an issue, I’d mention I’m not from Germany, and Gar should have inquired about that.
Yesterday, as I was walking out the door to work, I was complaining about a couple things in my life. Then I mentioned that our mountain-climbing daughter recently expressed how much she really loves life. Being somewhat facetious, Gar used his droll humor to comfort me by whispering, “Well, she’s not married.”