Did You Marry an Ape?

My husband and I will be married 25 years this month.  Some days it seems like only five, and at other times it feels like 70. 
 

Someone close to me said it best when she recalled her 25^th anniversary saying, “I thought after 25 years of marriage, we would be like one.  You know, we’d read each other’s mind and finish each other’s sentences.  I didn’t realize that it would still be so much work.”   

Raise your cup of coffee if you agree with this.

I thought about her philosophical statement, and I realized a couple of things. Marriage is when a man and a woman become one.  The trouble begins when they try to decide WHICH one!  

As far as reading each other’s minds, my husband and I at times believe we read each other’s mind, but in actuality we just assume what the other is thinking and—unfortunately—assume incorrectly.  I have grown to the conclusion that it is best to leave the mind reading to the people on television (who, I have noticed, only read dead peoples’ minds.)

After being married for a quarter of a century, I never imagined that I would think so much about those once-upon-a-time wedding vows.   I start pondering the seriousness of them, like the “to have and to hold from this day forward” part. 

“To have and to hold” was fine while I was my brawny husband’s “fragile flower” and I loved curling up next to him during those cold nights.  But now that I’m a hairy, grumpy menopausal bear, I feel ready to rip off that warm leg he throws over me on those 40-degree nights (which are still hot for me). 

Or consider “the better, for worse” part.  The better parts were wonderful.  Kids.  Travels. Homes.  Friendships.  Everyday paradises.  It’s the “for worse” parts that are enough to scare even the family dog.

I vividly recall moving into a rental home in Missouri.  Being a good renter, I insisted that my hubby and I pressure wash the rickety picket fence before giving it a fresh coat of white paint.   It would be a good family project since our kids were all old enough to hold a paintbrush.

Little did we know that the overgrown seven-foot “trees” intertwined with the fence would turn out to be poison oak.  The pressure washing had aerosolized the devilish weeds.  We woke up the next morning with boils on our limbs and faces morphed beyond recognition.  Yes, this was a “for worse” situation.   

My husband has had other trials, too.  Never in his wildest imagination did he think I would transform into a mother ape that pulls an occasional haphazard hair from his ear as we drive down the freeway.  

Imagine being betrothed to an ape during the day and a grizzly bear at night.

As I recall the “in sickness or in health” bit, I am hoping that bad health includes the weight I’ve gained, the flabby arms that are beginning to develop, and the one random white hair on my chin that seems to appear overnight.  Surely this obligates my better half to stick with me.   

The part of the vow that we talk about the most is the “til death do us part” portion.  No, we don’t morbidly talk about death every day.  We do, on occasion, tease that—while we can’t divorce each other (our pact since day one)—we can kill each other.  Our vows say so.

I once read that every man wants a wife who is beautiful, understanding, economical, and a good cook.  Whew!  In that case, it’s unfortunate that the law allows only one wife.  

Happy 25^th Anniversary, Honey.  Thanks for loving me even though I can’t be beautiful, understanding, economical, and a good cook all in the same year.  Now, come here.  Just close enough for me to pluck another hair from your ear and kiss you on the cheek while I’m at it.