stella martinez and the miracle of marriage
Tomas and I have been married for thirtysomething years or...forever... On a recent anniversary we celebrated by attending the wedding reception of a friend's daughter. While dancing with a vague acquaintence I remarked that this day was my wedding anniversary.
"Oh wow, how long have you been married?" he queried.
"Thirty years by general consensus but really it's sixty. We live and work together so that qualifies as double time".
He gives me an incredulous look, like I possess the powers to levitate or walk on water. I rapidly discern that this guy has been married a minimum of two times, probably closer to four. Being in a relationship for more than seven years is not in his repertoir. Looking into my eyes he asks, "So what do you attribute to being married for thrity years?" Returning his stare I respond, "No handguns".
This answer intrigues him and he throws his head back laughing. "No, seriously, tell me your sercret", he smiles. "Seriously", I tell him.
Longetivity in a marriage is often misconstrued that the couple possesses a magic potion which has enabled them to maintain and survive all these decades. I comprehend the secret of marriage as well as I understand the function of my ileocecal valve but one intuitive lesson I have grasped in all these years is.... it is best not to murder your spouse. Besides the obvious prison sentence, such action eliminates any opportunity of reconcilation....
There are women who ignore this philosophy and though I don't agree with their crime, I can empathize. Take Mary Winkler for example. The preacher's wife who, for better or worse, decided it was time for Mr. Winkler to join his god and she took it upon herself to provide the one way express ticket north. The media responds, clamoring why'd she do it? What was she thinking? And I wonder, what is with these reporters? Hey, he breathed... isn't that reason enough? A towel tossed nonchantley on the floor... that's it, your time is over. I have witnessed the stretching of my own emotional chord, drawn so tight it becomes a filament.... and I could snap.... as easily as a pretzel stick...and this frightens me... this uncontrollable impulse. We were married less than a year when I knew that I could not be trusted to always act responsibly and then and there made the conscious decision to ban all weapons from the house.
The other day my girlfriend, Montalda, wants me to go to the shooting range with her. Learn how to defend myself. I explain to her that learning to shoot is not a good idea for me... I could easily morph into a female rendition of Charlie Whitman. Besides, the one I would defend against is the one who loves me the most. It's much healthier for our marriage if I stick with throwing VCRs.... and they're so cheap now with everyone switching over to DVDs.
"Oh wow, how long have you been married?" he queried.
"Thirty years by general consensus but really it's sixty. We live and work together so that qualifies as double time".
He gives me an incredulous look, like I possess the powers to levitate or walk on water. I rapidly discern that this guy has been married a minimum of two times, probably closer to four. Being in a relationship for more than seven years is not in his repertoir. Looking into my eyes he asks, "So what do you attribute to being married for thrity years?" Returning his stare I respond, "No handguns".
This answer intrigues him and he throws his head back laughing. "No, seriously, tell me your sercret", he smiles. "Seriously", I tell him.
Longetivity in a marriage is often misconstrued that the couple possesses a magic potion which has enabled them to maintain and survive all these decades. I comprehend the secret of marriage as well as I understand the function of my ileocecal valve but one intuitive lesson I have grasped in all these years is.... it is best not to murder your spouse. Besides the obvious prison sentence, such action eliminates any opportunity of reconcilation....
There are women who ignore this philosophy and though I don't agree with their crime, I can empathize. Take Mary Winkler for example. The preacher's wife who, for better or worse, decided it was time for Mr. Winkler to join his god and she took it upon herself to provide the one way express ticket north. The media responds, clamoring why'd she do it? What was she thinking? And I wonder, what is with these reporters? Hey, he breathed... isn't that reason enough? A towel tossed nonchantley on the floor... that's it, your time is over. I have witnessed the stretching of my own emotional chord, drawn so tight it becomes a filament.... and I could snap.... as easily as a pretzel stick...and this frightens me... this uncontrollable impulse. We were married less than a year when I knew that I could not be trusted to always act responsibly and then and there made the conscious decision to ban all weapons from the house.
The other day my girlfriend, Montalda, wants me to go to the shooting range with her. Learn how to defend myself. I explain to her that learning to shoot is not a good idea for me... I could easily morph into a female rendition of Charlie Whitman. Besides, the one I would defend against is the one who loves me the most. It's much healthier for our marriage if I stick with throwing VCRs.... and they're so cheap now with everyone switching over to DVDs.
posted by chapter three at 7:51 PM
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