Marriage on Fire

Thank you for the thoughts on marriage. I have been living inside and actively participating in my own “Dream Marriage” for nearly ten years. Like many people my age, I’d done it before and “no, thank you very much” to any thoughts of a replay. “No, thank you very much” was the verbal talisman I stroked during moments of loneliness, or those frequent periods when “gosh, wouldn’t it be great to have someone to laugh with, do dishes with, plan with, comfort, hug, and all the rest” raised a wistful head.

But I was cured, absolutely, not of romance, but of partnership. Until the day I wasn’t cured any more, the day when I looked at the most wonderful man on the planet and said to myself, “So, the only reasons you are turning down his proposal are a previous bad experience and …drum role here, please, …chronology.” Yes, my darling husband is considerably younger than me, but we decided that “The Look” we may get from the uninformed was not sufficient reason not to be together.

Everyday is a joy, not because it is perfect, but because I’ve learned so much about how marriage can be that appreciation overrides more petty concerns. Through my husband’s eyes and the sincerity of his own personal spirit, I’ve been witness to what happens when commitment and love work in tandem. One example arose out of a common love situation. “You are so beautiful, honey,” he’d say. I’d pat him and say, “Thank you for thinking so, honey.” This brought a quizzical look, after which he’d say, “No, sweetheart, really.”

Well, as a normal/okay looking woman my whole life, I heard his words as a compliment rather than a statement. It wasn’t until we’d been married a few years that I got the truth behind his appreciation. Somehow, in a manner I’m just beginning to understand, based partially on his culture and partially on his character, once Ahmed had committed himself to me, I became beautiful. That is, whatever I was and looked like as he was falling in love with me was transformed into extraordinary beauty when that final commitment was made. It will never change, because the underlying commitment is certain and permanent. I believe it is from this space that one sees long-married couples, somewhat grey and withered, looking at one another as though they were just leaving for their senior prom. Commitment combined with love is transformational.

The other evening, a new reality show promised to put couples on the spot by asking them what part of their spouse’s body they found repulsive. Ahmed and I looked at each other and shook our heads. He has funny feet, I have a tummy, but there is never any thought of repulsion since the funny feet and the tummy are part of the package, a package which we love.

So many people break up their marriage into sections, rather like a course of study at college. “I like my history class, but my trig. prof. stinks.” That’s fine, because you haven’t committed to college for a lifetime. But in a marriage, “I love the way she cooks, but her body leaves me cold,” is both a death knell and a distortion of the intent of marriage. This is the person with whom all your secrets reside, who is tolerant of your errors, who applauds your successes and supports and consoles your other efforts and even failures. While honest, “Well, honey, that might not have been the best thing to say,”, he or she will ultimately throw a soothing bone of support, “But I can see why you said it.” Marriage is the place where every body function is common knowledge, body parts get cute names, body functions likewise, where no audience is needed for displays of affection and passion. In my husband’s case, an audience will never see his romantic side as he believes that is between the two of us. While disappointed early on that there would be no PDAs, I’ve come to relish the tantalizing secrecy of our romantic and intimate connection.

In marriage, there are behaviors, words, or actions that may be unwelcome. There may be fights, but even these demand rules for fair play. In my first marriage, a fight was an excuse to say the most dreadful things, things remembered long after the reason for the fight was forgotten. Arguments were always fights for soul survival and any weapon was fair use. In this second, I’ve learned to work through conflict until we each truly understand what the other person is saying and why he or she is upset. What is amazing is that it takes time to actually hear what is being said. While we both speak the language, we occasionally don’t listen to the heart’s translation.

The bumpiest part of our marriage came out of a situation I couldn’t change, so I had to stand for our partnership and maintain my faith in its viability while he worked his way back to center. Which we did.
As a result to that test, we check in with each other occasionally, “Are we okay?”, or “Have I missed something important to you, lately?” every once in a while.

My husband and I often travel by car, sometimes for many hours at a stretch. A few years ago, we drove across country from Arkansas to California. Nine days in a truck. Our pre-planning included music and books on tape, thinking we’d want a rest from talking. In reality, we listened to some music but heard only one book on tape because, despite being stuck the truck’s cab for 10 hours at a stretch, life and our travels were endless sources of conversation, comment, and debate. Another time, we had standing room only on a train from Casablanca to Marrakesh, Morocco. While not the most comfortable trip we’d ever had, we passed the time without complaining and made friends with our fellow sufferers.

The last thing to say is that despite being a dyed in the wool/Gloria Steinem feminist, I acknowledge that there are differences between men and women. “You are such a guy,” is my once a month refrain, such as when I ask Ahmed to clean the soup kettle and what he does is scrape it out, rinse it, and leave it in the sink. But, since he’s my guy, who cares?

I heartily endorse marriage for love, fun, laughs, learning, companionship, projects, plans, family, trust, and warm feet.

The point of view presented here hits it on the head. I have to agree that “true romance”, the kind that lasts beyond 2 years, only permits working on the relationship’s practical and analytical qualities while in a deeply connected positive conversation; not while passing by in the hallway. I firmly agree that the mindset and actions of one heavily engaged in courtship needs to be carried into the old wrinkled years. Otherwise, don’t even try.