60 Days To Heaven

I just heard today that one of my good friends called off his wedding. And not like one of those, "I’m nervous, but I’ll be right back on track" faux cancellations.

I’m talking about throw the girl out, change the locks, don’t pick up your phone cancellations.

I really feel for the brother, because even though I don’t know the whole story, for something to be drastic enough to reverse field on a marriage has to be major. Major enough that you should have seen it coming before you asked the big question.

But it also brings up the question of how do you communicate in the toughest of times? What happens when you want to blame the world for something gone wrong, but only your spouse is around?

What happens in times of crisis?

I can honestly say throughout the course of my relationship, we’ve never really had a major crisis. We’ve blown things out of proportion and acted like it was a crisis, but nobody was dying or dead, we weren’t bankrupt, and no one’s trust was betrayed.

By profession, I know how to deal with crisis situations. You assess the problem, acclimate yourself and your constituents to how it can be best addressed, and move towards fixing it. Somehow, the seamless plan always seems to burst at the seams in times of high emotion and confusion.

But with time, you learn from your partner all of the buttons to push and not push. You learn about buzz words, buzz topics, and how they buzzzaw right through your partner’s heart. Whenever you have a big fight? You can take it as a lesson on what not to say or how not to say it.

Some things you just can prevent, like a sudden traumatic experience or a devastating loss. What you can do is learn that silence is good medicine in matters of the heart. It allows personal reflection on both ends, and for the need to reach out to flourish.

I hope that’s what my buddy learns to do. Because if you don’t learn to reach out, you eventually withdraw so much that no one can reach you.

I have to admit, I did become a fan of ‘Sex and the City’ before I met my wife, but the debates about the show’s themes were not as poignant or as meaningful before her. The movie debuts tomorrow, and while I would prefer that my wife make it a girls night out event, I’ll probably be tagged along to make up for her viewing of ‘Iron Man.’

The show has excellent writing, is well acted, and dutifully maintained its character arc without jumping the shark. But, there was a real and present lack of minority representation in the show, and aside from Blair Underwood playing a fleeting love interest for Cynthia Nixon’s character Miranda Hobbs, I really can’t remember any people of color.

My favorite marriage blog has a really great post on it, and it’s from a woman’s perspective. For the movie, they did bring in Jennifer Hudson, but clearly Effie White isn’t going to pardon SATC for seasons of colorless drama. In the meantime, I’m trying to get my mind right for what’s sure to be two hours of inside women’s jokes, stories from episodes I may have missed, and squeals of delight out of my beloved.

Chris Cooley is a tight end for the Washington Redskins, and he’ll be getting married soon. He recently wrote about it on his blog for Yahoo! Sports. If you ever wanted to know what a rich, young and handsome pro athlete thinks about marriage, try this on for size.

While I can’t wait to put the ring on I’ve had some resoundingly bad conversations over the last couple of months. Golf may have an uncountable list of ethics, though bothering a complete stranger about getting married is not one of them. First of all, I’m excited for the big day, so please don’t feel sorry for me because marriage
sucks for you. No, I’m not nervous, I don’t want any marriage advice, and yes Christy’s mom is still hot.

Consider my attempt at cornering the young married man’s blogging niche GONE.

Right about now, my wife and I are jumping back and forth between the American Idol finale and Game 1 of the Western Conference finals between the Los Angeles Lakers and the San Antonio Spurs. If I had my druthers, David Cook and David Archuleta would be on the morning Internet check, but since I’m married, their competition is required viewing.

Does it suck? Of course. But is it important? Absolutely.

After all, the Spurs and the Lakers have seven games to get it right. Cook and Archuleta have this one night. But in both circumstances, the magic of Comcast DVR perfects the art of the marital compromise.

As long as the Lakers play it out like David Cook, I have no beef.

Is it their nurturing nature? Is it their looks? Its something about a
wife that just lulls you into a sense of security and warmth. The soft
place for you to fall and be totally who you are leads you into paths
of comfort and familiarity.

Is that why its so easy to lean on your wife?

I’ve gotten used to the notion of being asked to do chores. I’ve always hated housework, so a domestic kick in the pants every now and then helps to motivate me for things I don’t like to do. And I know that marriage means conjoined efforts in all major decisions.

But sheesh, I never would’ve imagined that she would have worked her voodoo on me so much that I come to expect her input on certain things, or that she would have the expectation of providing it.

As I write this, my wife is probably going over a resume’ I am putting together. Keep in mind that I’m a professional writer, but my wife is no slouch by any means. She can run circles around me all day, correcting my imperfect grammar. Nevertheless, when I told her I would be preparing a resume’ for a job search, she asked to see it. And not like, "ooooh, can I see it when you’re finished?" More like, "Email it to me for formatting changes and recommendations."

And of course, I mumbled, "Sure, baby."

I remember sitting there thinking, "Now how did I evolve to this point?" Every instinct within me told me to yell "Woman, dis’ here is my resume’, and I’m not gon’ be takin’ no lip service from you bout’ it, hear?" But, what started as a passage from Toni Morrison’s "Song of Solomon" eventually evolved into a verse from the Book of Proverbs,

A wise man will hear and increase learning, and a man of understanding will attain wise counsel.

Your wife is the best person to bring out the best in you. No one knows more about your strengths, your weaknesses, your intent and your ability. If you can’t respect that a wife, like a mother, like a sister, only wants for you to be the best that you can be, you’ve missed the train on one of the true joys of marriage.

Sometimes its helpful to know your place in a marriage. The macho perspective is to feel like you are the alpha male and have the capability to make all important decisions and moves. Anything less is an insult and a disgrace to manhood. But every now and then, it’s wise to exchange disgrace for saving grace.

The closer I get to my wife, and the more acclimated I become to living in Middle River, MD., the more I realize that I really miss my friends from back home. All of these wonderful happenings are occurring in my life, and my crew from Seat Pleasant, MD and other parts throughout the eastern seaboard can only share them in weekend visits, text messages and fleeting phone calls.

My assumption in getting married is that the whole "forsaking all others" part of the vows would be serious, but not to the point that I would miss the company of other guys my age. Its hard being the boy and girl genius on the block; everyone is older than us, and everybody we know close to our age is not married and do not like like the prospect of rolling as a third wheel.

Thank God for frat brothers, but even then I’m caught between undergraduates who need to be wild to justify their age, 30-somethings just pulling back on their wilding, and 60-somethings who just enjoy watching the first two groups waste the energy unnecessarily. I’ve been pretty lucky in meeting cool guys on the job and in the neighborhood, but nothing has materialized.

In church, there are plenty of cool gentlemen to associate with, but you can’t call those brothers up and ask, "let’s get some brews and some ribs and catch that Ravens game." First, the game is during the service.  Second, grabbing a few brews usually isn’t a good line to open up with when speaking to parishioners. Although some folks just might be down with that kind of proposal.

Maybe this summer will bring about some solid friendships in my new hometown, but between vacations, summer school, and still enjoying the honeymoon, Jesus still might wind up being my closest homeboy in the area.

There are still a few more sessions of the semester remaining, which means a few more long nights of report writing and other assignments. Fortunately, arduous times on the job and my hatred of school have not encroached on our laughing, talking, and general understanding of each other.

I look at my wife sometimes and wonder just how she made it through 21 consecutive years of school. I’ve been struggling trying to make it through this semester balancing work, graduate school and life in general. I remember in the months leading up to our wedding, she was regularly overwhelmed. Now that the roles have reversed, she’s been more than understanding of my protests. Despite having a summer school class, we are planning a trip to somewhere in Canada, and hopefully there will be fun things to do in and around Baltimore.

The month of April felt like a complete whirlwind. Have you ever felt like there’s 20 things you have to do, and they all need to be done right now? My one objective for May, besides making chores an consistent daily habit, is to do something that is just for her and me at least three times a week. Recently, we’ve gotten into some heavy Scrabble battles, but I’ve reigned supreme over the last two games.  I would also like to find a way for us to talk about our feelings for each other more regularly, not because anything is wrong, but because it would be a good habit to start and become familiar with.

The weather has been up and down in Baltimore, hot many days and chilly some of the days. We were expecting rain yesterday, but encountered none on our trip to Bengies’ Drive-In to see "Iron Man." It’s a decent super hero movie, and Robert Downey Jr. has always been hilarious to me. I put it below Spider Man but above Superman.

I promise I’ll be on a lot more frequently in the weeks to come. Just a couple of classes left.

Everyone notices that I’m getting fat these days. When asked about the married life, about the only thing as noticeable as the broad smile on my face is the paunch of my waist. When people assume that the married life is the good life, it truly is the life of wings.

We still date. Often. And that means eating out every now and then, and when we’re on the run, catching up with our favorite poisons at the local drive thru. It’s good when you’re doing it, because you’re caught all up in the sauce, literally and figuratively.

I’m cool with that, because my wife has kept up her face up enough to conceal her laughter when she says "I love the way you look." Unfortunately, everyone else is taking detailed notice of my personal expansion.

Church, work, everybody notices the emerging look, and they certainly aren’t shy about letting me know, although its definitely in a nice way. "You are filling out quite nicely since you’ve gotten married," or "you are putting on some weight, huh? You should be glad you have a wife that cooks like that."

Like that?

Yeah, she cooks like that, and it looks like I’m eating like that. The funny thing is, I fully expected everyone to be invested in our marriage, but not to the point that my pants size would be an integral part of of the investment.

I really want to have a child, but it’s not a good time to have a child. So we won’t be having a child.

Now I realize what people are talking about when they say that springtime brings out the urge for children. My wife sometimes jokes with me about becoming parents, because I half-jokingly, half-seriously said let’s try to make a baby on the first night of our honeymoon. But now that we are eight months into our marriage, and no one has chased the other out of the new house or out of their hearts, I’ve really been thinking about the joy and closeness that our first son or daughter would bring.

But my mortal enemy, graduate school, is blocking this fantasy in all directions. I need to finish my master’s, so we can’t have a kid. She needs to finish her doctorate, so we can’t have a kid. Then she needs to find a stupid job, so we can’t have a kid. I swear these degrees are burning me at every turn.

Everywhere I go, cute babies are looking up at me like “you should be in on this party, chief.” And I really want to be. I don’t care if it’s not manly to say you want a kid. I want a kid. I want to be able to care for a little guy or gal with the person I care about most in the world. I want to look forward to the day where screaming and crying doesn’t get on my nerves at church and at the grocery store, because the noise will be coming from my flesh and blood. Of course, I won’t be one of those parents that annoys everyone else by pretending I don’t hear it and staying put, but I want the option very badly these days.

But these days, we’re more likely to get a visit from Larry Bird than the stork, so spring will come and go without me and my baby making a baby.

Of all of the things I’ll always cherish about my honeymoon, the connection my wife and I had in the casino will stand out the most. Don’t get me wrong, it will definitely be in perspective with other significant moments, but she and I sitting at the black jack table will always be one of those pictures that stand out in my mind’s photo album.

I remember it so well because my wife is pretty strict when it comes to gambling. She’s not for taking two grand out of an ATM and trying to turn it into $10k. In fact, she’s more along the lines of “as soon as I lose, I’m out of here.” Not lose a certain amount of money, lose a hand.

So on our Caribbean cruise, I somehow managed to talk her into accompanying me to the ship’s casino one evening. Reluctantly, she followed me down to the glittering trap of chance, her mind’s eye transfixed on my gambling patterns ever so keenly. But something strange happened on the way to play 21. Maybe it was the permanence of our matrimonial bond, maybe it was the magic of being married at sea, or maybe it was the energy of drunk tourists loudly about the casino floor, but she had a change of heart on her gambling perspective. No, she didn’t become Annie-Get-Your-IRA-Fund, but she did experience an unique thrill that comes with gambling.

She became a willing gladiator in the man vs. cards battle royal.

You may think, ‘oh, she just got used to playing some cards,’ but it was a little more than that to me. Because as stringent as she had been about gambling and the possibility of losing a substantial amount of money, she never once mentioned a nervousness about life’s biggest gamble, marriage.

The prospect of a broken heart, divided assets, and the pity of family and friends never crossed her mind. Not that it crossed my mind, but when you really consider just how deep the pool of marriage is, you appreciate the notion that it’s one of the few institutions in life that is truly sink or swim.

This may be one of the reasons marriages are just a likely to fail as they are to sustain, because pop culture has embraced the idea of a life ‘Reset’ button. People are more dedicated to riding out several band hands or a dry slot machine spell than working on communication problems with a spouse. There’s something wrong when folks are more willing to wait on the big score than life’s biggest achievement.

And yet, she used to be uptight on black jack tables. Special emphasis on “used to be.”