Happy Wife, Happy Life

My husband and I had dinner last night with friends who were celebrating their 26th wedding anniversary. After the meal we just talked like friends do. Work, kids, pets, bills, etc. Throughout the conversation I noticed how he touched her thigh and sometimes stroked her arm. I thought how nice that they still have a connection after two kids, eight dogs, three houses, and an unexpected grand-baby due to arrive in November.

Our closest friends left Montana to go back to New Hamphire soon after they celebrated their 25th anniversary. We bought them a petite wedding cake, placed an ornament on top, had a bottle of champagne and my husband suggested flowers. They were stunned. They have no children, he enjoys wood work and she likes to sell real estate. Happy, settled, satisfied. And they still have something to talk about.

My friend in Southern California is happy enough with her long-term spouse, a nice corner house with updated kitchen, one child and a picture of Jesus hanging over her bed. She's not going anywhere soon and has made the best of the relationship.

My employer has been married to his lovely wife for 22 years and he does the cooking, he pulls out her chair at restaurants (I've seen this with my own eyes) and orders her favorite glass of wine before she has a chance to speak. He knows what she likes. He knows what she needs. His motto is and will always be, happy wife, happy life.

I believe after so many years of marriage you must learn to compromise. If he insists on watching football, you sit beside him reading a book. If all he orders is red meat and potatoes, you smile and order your turkey burger. If you've never acquired a taste for beer or tequila, you pour him a glass or a shot, then slip back into the kitchen to top off your Bombay gin and tonic.

Its hard not to lecture your spouse. Its downright impossible not to offer suggestions that you know in your heart are the right choices. I bite my tongue every time I pick up a dirty coffee cup, a soiled sock, a damp towel. I turn the other cheek when I see the kitchen trash can is overflowing, the dog dish is empty, the daily newspaper tossed on the floor near his recliner.

Speaking of recliners - I could do 2,500 words on what I think they do to a man and his ability to ever lift a finger again. I could write another 2,500 words on the magic of his remote control.

Back to the subject at hand:

Long-term marriages don't happen that often anymore. It takes commitment, forgiveness, humor. It takes strength, prayer and knowing when to walk away until you cool down. We don't carry a crystal ball with us, cannot read their minds no matter how much we think we know them. We're in it for the long haul - until death do we part.

But sometimes in the quiet of the night, your mind wanders and you wonder what it would be like to really love and lust again. To have those butterflies in your stomach again. To feel cherished and desired again.

I believe some marriages are for love, some for comfort, some because of obligation. Other marriages happen due to fear of living alone, dying alone. Some marriages take place because a woman doesn't want to be fat, forty and living in a mobile home with three cats. A man doesn't want to have a nice house, a cool motorcycle and a full head of hair without a woman on his arm.

You honor your wedding vows and give the proper respect to your spouse. But what happens if one day you look in the mirror and find yourself asking: "Is this all there is?" What if you realize your loving wife or husband is not your soul mate - not your lover - not even your better half. He may be a good provider, she may be a wonderful mother, both of them will make loving Grandparents. But what about connection?

Pure and real heart connection. To love and to win. Most people don't give it a second thought. They look down at the gold band or pretty diamond on their ring finger and know they made a decision. And they hope that decision is for KEEPS.

So to all those folks that have been married over 20 years, my hat is off to you. I commend you, admire you, and think you're setting a fine example for the next generation.