Tuesday, November 8, 2011
We'd been together a few months here. Fourteen years ago.
She was shy, insecure, stubborn, probably passively aggressive.
He was blunt, comedic, stubborn, probably aggressively aggressive.
She was short and skinny, broke, artistic. She was still dancing, but had lost some of the love for it. She wouldn't order anything to eat, ever, when out with friends causing them to confront her about eating disorders. She just didn't like the ugly business of choosing something and then chewing and swallowing it in front of anyone. She drove a two toned beat up car. She wasn't getting along with her sister.
He was zealous about religion, loud, stressed out about work. He was performance driven, romantic, funny, but sometimes rude. He drove a pick up where a lot of kissing took place, especially at red lights. He didn't like to be alone.
He talked all the time. She didn't.
He wanted a blonde career woman.
She wanted a boot wearing cowboy.
She wasn't interested in careers.
He wasn't interested in boots.
Sometimes they argued but it was only about big things, not the little things that everyone always says you'll argue about when you get married, like toothbrushes and how to make the coffee and whether or not to have decorative hand towels.
She can't focus in clutter or chaos; it makes her depressed and tumultuous inside.
He will always put dirty spoons on the counter after she's washed it down.
He loves football.
She will always have a martyred look on her face when he watches it.
He likes sugar.
She likes salt.
They learn eventually that looks and expressions say more than words in a marriage.
Once she got so angry at him she threw her set of car keys at his face.
Luckily, she throws like a girl or he'd be wearing an eye patch now.
He likes to talk about his feelings.
She would rather write about them.
He is her biggest fan even when she makes him crazy.
She is his best friend even when he does the wrong thing.
Now they don't argue about the big things anymore because they have all that worked out. Birth control and vaccinating and home schooling and budgets and travels and moves - all the kinks have been beautifully ironed so that there are never any wrinkles to unfold and discover that inside is a nasty difference of opinion. Instead they argue now about the dumb little things, like toothbrushes and how to make the coffee and whether or not to have decorative hand towels.
They don't say the wrong things anymore, but since they know what one another is thinking they might as well sometimes. She mentally curses his eyesight when she picks up his dirty socks from the bedroom floor. He mentally rolls his eyes when he asks how he can help around the house and the offer only makes her mad.
Their flaws are more evident the older their children grow because it's like being followed around by three miniature looking glasses with milk mustaches and footy pajamas.
He can be insensitive and she can be manipulative, but they are both forgiving.
What about all of you? What has marriage taught you?
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