Writers are funny. Not many are humorous, but most are funny. How odd.
Some writers are cantankerous grumps, Other writers think that because you give them a pen and paper they should rub them together and start a fire. I, the former, read one of the latter the other day. She'd gathered all her sticks and stones together telling the story of how her marriage had survived all the hurdles life threw at her. She offered advice, and the means for floundering couples to keep it together. You should applaud her now, for she was a master of matrimony. Yes, I suspect she approached the alter with a black belt on before bowing and assuming the position.
Now here's the thing. Don't get me wrong, I love marriage. I think anybody who can keep a relationship with another person afloat deserves a Girl Scout Cookie. Screw it, give them two--no, give them the whole box. They've earned it. I don't care how soulmatey you and your partner are, a marriage is a pirate ships with 2 captains positioned between jutting rocks and hungry sharks just waiting to pull you under. It's way too easy for one of you to sneak into the lifeboat one starless night and row away to safety while the other one wonders why it's so quiet tonight.
So here's my problem. This sage of marital bliss casting lauds like rose petals at the feet of her wedded accomplishments. She's a 25 year old who's been married 5 years. Five years? When I was 20 I had jock itch longer than that. Ok, maybe not, but it sure seemed like it.
OK granted, This woman shared her tale of tortured love while her husband attended another college, and explained how they'd been High School sweethearts and just knew they'd get married someday, because their love was strong enough to support a grand piano 15 feet in the air while the latest cast of American Idol stood atop singing "There is Love."
Yeah, whatever.
Does her story sound familiar? It should. Here lets try this, those you who were high school sweethearts and got married step forward. Great. You two in the back who didn't step forward, you can sit down. Now, If you made it five years, step forward again. That's what I thought. Those of you we lost, you'll get the latest version of the home game. It looks like there's quite a few of you still here though. Ok, here's the cookie monster challenge: step forward if you made it 25 years. Awesome! I have a handful of cookies for you handful of people. I hope you've learned enough to see 50.
Little miss "we survived to five years" I think will be lucky to see 10. If you make it five years, you've only just learned about morning breath and "does this make me look fat?" that's 1 foot in the mine field, and you've still got a long way to go; you can't afford to dance the haughty dance at 5 years.
Five years is an amusement park crane crank toy: You'll probably get something in your teeth, but even if you do maneuver the big plush bear, it's all luck. Given a liter of Jack, and roll of quarters, my gophers can probably do the same thing. If you can make 10 years or more, then you can say you showed skill at something. That's like 10 plush bears in a row. The thing is, if you make ten years or more, you stop sounding like you had anything to do with it. I know people married over 15 years who'll say, "I have no idea how that happened." That's because they realize that each day nobody gets their head ripped off and their poly-stuff strewn across the kitchen floor, is a big plush teddy bear day.
So do I sound riled? Yeah. Maybe it's because I only made it 7 years. I didn't even win the fuzzy dice. Maybe I'm jealous. Maybe I'm just annoyed because she thinks she knows it all, and treats 5 years like it's her accomplishment. I really need to get together with this woman and work through her wisdom-writer to writer.
"Do you still have your wedding dress?"
"Yes, of course. My husband still has his--"
"Yeah, that's great, go put the dress on."
"Ok…Now what?"
"Stand over here by the pyramid of wood."
"Ok, it looks kind of like the alter we were married at. We were so young and--Uhm, what are you doing."
"Oh, I'm tying you down?"
"What are the matches and lighter fluid for?"
"Converting self-righteousness into martyrdom."
"OK, thanks!"
FWOOM!
Yeah, I'm basking in the warm glow of her accomplishments right now.
She's like the Barbie of marriage. She spouts all the ideals of what we're taught we want to hear, but she's only empty plastic. That's not to say that she won't make 25 years or even more. I hope she does. The reality is, most of us were where she is now. We thought we knew marriage in and out. Only experience showed us what we didn't know.
I hate experience. It makes me look like more of a fool than she does. Still, I know more now than I did. I know for instance, that I do want to try again. I know that I don't know half of what I thought I knew before. I know that I know even less now.
I know something else. I know that if I can find somebody who can love me, and somebody who realizes that the writer behind the pen isn't nearly as smart as he thinks he is. Then maybe we have a start. After that, It's all I can do to depend on the grace of God to carry us the rest of the way.
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