This week, my wife and I celebrated our 26th wedding anniversary. Actually, “celebrated” might be too strong a word. “Acknowledged” would be a little closer to the truth. It is hard to build up a lot of enthusiasm for an event that simply reminds you that another year has passed and the only accomplishment you have to show for it is your spouse hasn’t decided to leave you yet.
When my wife and I were first married, each new anniversary was an accomplishment that we commemorated with cards, gifts, romantic trips, and breakfast in bed. As the years passed, breakfast in bed became cold cereal and toast in the kitchen. Vacation trips stopped happening when we had kids and we suddenly found ourselves completely without the time or money to go anywhere. And as far as gifts go, after a few years we discovered that the best gift we could give to each other was permission to not drive ourselves crazy trying to find the perfect present to buy for one another.
We still exchange cards, which I suppose is something. But in general, observation of the date we married has become a little less remarkable every year. This year, when the alarm clock went off, we fist-bumped then my wife went off to work and I got up to mow the lawn.
Who says romance is dead?
And speaking of romance, I recall one anniversary when I booked a room for the weekend at a local hotel. The room was stocked with champagne, flowers, and chocolate-dipped strawberries. Although this year will also involve hotel rooms, the only flowers will be on the 1970’s themed, floral curtains. I have booked a room for three days in Anaheim while my wife has hotel reservations in Reno, Nevada. I’m not sure exactly what that says about a relationship when a couple decides to spend their anniversary residing in completely different states, but feel free to make of it what you will.
We also used to go out to dinner on our anniversary. It was a nice way to get out of the house, just the two of us, and enjoy a quiet night together. We still go out, but only because both of us are generally too tired to cook, and we have had to give up the candle-lit tables for two in exchange for a booth that seats four, Styrofoam dishes, and sticky Formica countertops. Not quite so glamorous.
Sex is much different now, as well. Maybe I shouldn’t address this particular subject in my blog, but I feel like over the past few months we have become friends, and I trust that you will keep this just between us.
Early in our marriage, my wife and I would open a bottle of wine, strip down to something more comfortable and end up making love in whatever room of the house we happened to find ourselves. This was, of course, before we had children. These days we rarely even sit on the same side of the couch. We have learned our lesson, and are generally terrified we might inadvertently do something that would lead to having more children. So, instead, we smile and wave at each other from a safe distance across the room, while occasionally shouting out answers to episodes of Jeopardy!
My wife and I have been married for 26 years. In a world where one out of every two marriages fails, 26 years is a very long time. And when I think about it, I am frequently left wondering, what did we do wrong? I know when we married, we were young, stupid, and in love; the perfect beginning for that first failed relationship. So, why are we still together? I’m not certain, but I think that it is probably my fault.
The original plan was to get rich, grow to despise each other’s presence, divorce, and go pick out some new trophy spouses. Unfortunately, I screwed up the first part of that. We never had enough money to make the divorce worth the trouble. What’s the point of breaking up if the only assets available to split are an eight-year old car and two cats?
We never really got to step two either. I have to admit I still like having her around. (Does she feel the same way? Well … there are days I would be afraid to ask that question out loud.)
Anyway, I think we are stuck with one another at this point. I have been married too long to even imagine what being single might look like. Besides, I am quite certain nobody else would be interested in me if I suddenly found myself on the market again. Like a banana that has already turned brown, I am past my expiration date and ready for the dumpster.
Maybe I could be banana bread. Or pudding?
But, I digress.
If marriage is a series of hurdles, I feel like we have already gone over most of them. We knocked a few down and tripped a couple of times, but we are still running for the finish line. There is nothing left for my wife and me but to move on to that last big jump; the next phase of all successful marriages:
Try to outlive one another and see who collects the life insurance.