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.”
So here’s an email that I just received a couple of minutes ago about a radio broadcast revolving around love, marriage and everything in between.
Conversations Live with Vicki St. Clair Presents
Amy Sutherland - Secrets of Life, Love and Marriage AND Peggy Spenser, MD and Sheila Kay - Living it up over 40
When Amy Sutherland wrote about using animal-training techniques on her husband to improve their marriage for the New York Times “Modern Love” column, her article became the New York Times Most-Emailed article of 2006, led to book and movie deals (Naomi Watts is currently slated to star). And she still receives letters from readers asking for relationship advice!
Also in this hour, you’ve heard of 50 ways to leave your lover. Now we have 50 Ways to Leave Your 40s: Living It Up in Life’s Second Half. Co-authored by a savvy doctor, Peggy Spencer, M.D, and award-winning writer and graphic designer, Sheila Key, 50 Ways to Leave Your 40s explains how to rock and roll your way over the hill.
Shamu? Really?
It’s interesting that I got this email, because my wife and I were just discussing yesterday evening the images and roles men and women play on television. While I agree with her that women’s images and stereotypes on are shabby at best, there is room to argue that men are just as stereotypically depicted.
Husbands on sitcoms are either gruff with a soft side, lovably dumb, or philanderers with no conscience. I’m not philanderer, but it seems that I can crack a joke, forget about chores and be moody with the best of them. Just depends on what day it is.
The sad part is that the stereotypes have some sense of validity to them. If they didn’t,
they wouldn’t be exaggerated on television and in movies. TV executives either grew up with somebody, live with somebody or know somebody who lives with these kinds of men. They get the message to the writers, who also have experienced the same interactions with men, and they bring it into our homes regularly for us to view and continue the cycle.
Even sadder, the majority of us husbands and fathers don’t work to erase them. We are content with being lampooned with blown up emotions, even if we are much more diverse than our depictions.
No wonder women feel like they have to train us. It seems that being tricked and molded into a better provider and companion is exactly what we need.
I say we take a stand. I say we cast off the shackles of labels like ‘blundering,’ ‘gullible,’ and ‘lazy.’ Let’s take up the cause of regaining our place in homes and communities around the world. Let’s partner with our wives to make our lives more exciting and fulfilling. Let’s do all the things they say we can’t do, and realize that it’s our pleasure to do them.
Fortunately for me, I don’t dread the approach of March Madness. Some guys hate when the NCAA tournament comes around, because it means they will have a unhappy wife in the background trying to compete against the slew of games.
Luckily, my wife loves basketball as much as I do, and went to a school that made the tournament. I won’t embarrass her by mentioning which school, but its in Philadelphia. You figure out the rest.
I would hope that even if some wives weren’t down with sports as much as their husbands are, they would understand that March Madness is a unique kind of event. It’s not the NBA playoffs, where series tend to drag out the long-awaited outcome, and it’s not the NFL, where only a hand full of teams make it. This is about 65 teams from all over the country, vying for an opportunity to show the world what they are made of. It doesn’t matter that they will probably get blown out of the gym, it’s all about making the big dance.
In many ways, a strong relationship can be further strengthened through sports. Although our recent trip out of town wasn’t the best we’ve ever taken, each of the bright sports revolved around watching tournament games. Sports can make the knot tighter on strong bonds, or create new ones that you never knew. My wife doesn’t know one person that plays for a team not named Morgan State, but she knows the difference between a 2-3 and a 3-2, and why the coach shouldn’t be calling for one or the other.
I can appreciate that in her, and hopefully, she appreciates the fact that I attempt to break it all down for her.
I brought home a bracket for her and I to fill out to see who would pick the most games. Of course she had no interest whatsoever in doing so, but she will be down to spend long Thursday nights and Saturdays watching the recaps. Now that’s a marriage, in all of its madness.
Somewhere along the line, I learned that the universe has a few basic rules to it. One of the most important ones is that for every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. Must’ve been a newly-married guy who came up with that one, because it’s one of the most important lessons I have learned in my marriage so far.
This weekend we were out of town for the MEAC Basketball Tournament in Raleigh, NC. For reasons that mostly revolved around the usual suspects of miscommunication and inconsideration, my beautiful bride and I got into an argument. A big one.
Now I have to admit, there aren’t too many things I’m afraid of in life. But I know that two of the things I am afraid of are failure and loneliness, things that don’t seem too far off when you are into a deep argument with your soul mate. In this fear, as I have regrettably done in the past, I tried to establish some type of lame control by using a term that should never come up in any marriage unless you are watching the “Maury” show. Divorce. My intention was never to say that I wanted one or needed one, just to say that people who aren’t willing to communicate often get them. Still, it shouldn’t have been said, and I’ve been regretting it ever since.
Naturally, I want to be forgiven for what I know was one of the worst mistakes I could ever make as a married man. Miraculously, my wife did forgive me. But it’s clear that the forgiving and forgetting don’t quite go together like the T.V. shows make it out to be. I know hurt her deeply, and I’m learning that just as we are prone to make mistakes, we are also prone to be cut deeper than we would like to be. Naturally, I want to be forgiven and for us to keep rolling like we usually do. Unnaturally, it seems that I’m trying to set the terms for the rolling, which is something that should be left totally up to her.
This isn’t the first time I’ve done something stupid like allude to wanting out of our precious relationship. What can I say? I become afraid when I mess up, and since I’m a macho black man, that comes out as anger and pride. I wish that I could undo everything and make her see that I would never want to leave her, and that I’m trying to learn a better way to communicate that to her when we are upset with each other. That I know. What I didn’t know is that my wife is not bulletproof, and that she deserves the right to be sensitive. Even if that means I need to walk around hurting for a while until she is not.
Now, usually this would be a post just to communicate to her and the world how truly sorry I am. But it’s not just that. This is a warning to all of you husbands, soon-to-be-husbands, and thinking about being husbands. If you are thinking about joining with somebody for the rest of your life, understand that her life is the single most important thing you can have. Don’t let your fears or emotions get on top of you enough to casually think otherwise. I can’t live without my wife, even if that means I have to live with her minus her smile, her laughter, and the outward expression of her love, for however long it takes.
