Posts tagged marriage

So, it’s been 4 months since October 2nd, 2010. If my memory is correct, we should be right at The Nest issue discussing buying our first house. Which is good, because that’s where we are, and we need all the advice we can get!

Here are the latest contenders:

“The Grandma” - (Haven’t toured) Perfect location, ridiculously cheap price, permanently yellow, nice uh, handicap ramp….no inside photos online. Yeah, that’s not suspicious at all. Houses in that neighborhood are generally $100,000+ more than what this house currently is. It’s a block away from a Frank Lloyd Wright house for freak’s sake. What is your malfunction, Grandma House!?

“The Hud” - (Toured) Great location, very cute, lots of character and potential…and a complete money pit. It’s livable, but needs at least $35,000 worth of renovation to be super awesome. It was built in 1920 [by insane people with little feet] and there are still unfinished rooms on the second floor. I also call it the Mini Mansion because it looks teensie but actually has 4 bedrooms and 2 baths, a basement, a hunormous walk through closet in the master bedroom and the most random not-quite-bedrooms/sun-porches I’ve ever seen. It’s currently going for $4,000 more than it’s worth, but since it’s a HUD, we can bid lower. However, the general consensus is that it’s a baaad idea since we have 0 money/construction skills.

“The Almost Ghetto” - (Haven’t toured) It’s a little too close to the ghetto for some people’s taste, but it’s so cute and a decent price. I really don’t want to leave my neighborhood, and this isn’t too far away from where we are now. The downside (besides the ghetto part): 1 bathroom. But that color and the hardwood floors make me so happy!


“Stonewashed Jeans!” - (Haven’t toured) It’s a decent price (Cheaper than the HUD, actually), a block away from us and a very nice size. Inside, it’s been 90’s-ized, which is most unfortunate. I call it the Stonewashed Jeans house because the bathroom, while actually fairly nice, is bedecked in tile that looks very much like stonewashed jeans that I find atrocious. I don’t mind the idea of updating old houses that need love, but I really don’t care for trying to fix up houses that are functional but have been made ugly by stupid people with bad taste.

***

There are plenty more to look at, but these are the ones we want to check out this weekend. It’s actually been a pretty fun bonding experience for us, looking at houses. The process sparks our creativity and creates a nice mini adventure for winter weekends stuck in town (which is pretty much all of them.) After we viewed the HUD house Tuesday, we even sat down and sketched out its floor plan and played Sherlock Homes (wakka wakka), trying to figure out what the crap happened to that poor house the past 91 years. It was engaging, fun, creative and useful—-all the makings of a perfect (if temporary) hobby for us both.

Because yeah, we don’t have much in common as far as hobbies go, but we do have a love for old houses and history. We like sturdy Craftsman bungalows with nice porches, Japanese influenced art deco and anything inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright. This shared love makes house hunting one of the most pleasurable “outside the house” activities we do together, and I wouldn’t mind if we didn’t fine “The One” just yet. (Maybe! I can’t wait to start feathering! Haha.)

It all happened so fast.
“I have no idea what I’ll do tonight,” I said. I could already feel the boredom sinking in even though I was barely 5 minutes through the door.
“You could go to game night, you know,” He said.
“Yeah?” I replied warily.
“Yep. Nerds find girls ten times more sexy when they join in on game night.”
“Um. Right. You know I’ll have no idea what’s going on….”
“That’s okay! You can just sit and watch!”
“But it’s boys’ night! Are you sure you want me there?”
“Of course I do!” And I looked at the excitement in his blue eyes, like a puppy just asked if he wanted to go for walk, and with great trepidation I replied:
“Fine. I’ll go.”

And so I went. And from 7:30 to 10:30, I sat on the sofa while 7 grown men played something called CthulhuTech at the dining room table behind me. I remember there was a thing…and they had to try to kill the thing…and a warehouse…and riot shields…lots of guns…and dice…I don’t know. It was a like big, nerdy blur that sucked up 4 hours of my life.

And it was odd, too, how Dan changed in front of his friends. I always sort of expect to be ignored when he’s around other guys, but in this case, it was just the opposite. He’d get up and visit me on the couch, give me a little kiss and ask me how I was doing. I came to visit from time to time to see what was going on (there’s no physical game there, I found out) and he’d pull me over, give me a squeeze and hold me next to him for a while. Totally not expecting that. But I suppose when you consider that 5 out of 7 guys at that table didn’t have girlfriends, much less a wife, it’d make sense if this was Dan’s slightly geeky way of showing off a bit. While less than subtle bragging usually drives me up the wall, it didn’t feel so bad to be a trophy wife for a night. :)

But when I was back on the couch, nose glued to my phone, I did try to listen as the guys talked. I had decided that my only goal was to pick up enough that I could honestly ask Dan questions when he was done and deserve the nerdy trophy wife status. Much to my relief, I actually caught a few things towards the end that sounded kind of like my LoTR video game, so I had a small arsenal of questions at the ready when we got into the car. I knew I’d be regaled for hours about aliens, H.P. Lovecraft and various other things that I didn’t fully understand, but when we got home, he thanked me for asking questions and for sitting through it all, and it felt worth it.

Just like the books say, husbands really do appreciate it when you show interest in their extra-curricular activities (you don’t say!) So my advice is, no matter how boring, how dorky, how silly it may actually be to you, sometimes loving your husband just means going to his game night every once in a while, be it joining him on the couch for football, reading up on political events or even donning your dork shirt and spending the evening listening in on a post-apocalyptic world full giant bug wizards. He’ll feel more respected and you’ll probably gain +42 Wife Tenacity in the process, and that’s always ftw.

Every night we read one chapter in a book before we go to sleep. They’re usually of the Christian-Marriage-Relationship sort, but last night Dan wanted the Christian-Marriage-Relationship-Sex one. Whoo! He had enough of the Dobsons and their old married people blah blah blah and was ready for something a bit more…interesting. I groaned and he snickered as he grabbed my phone and hit the Kindle app, all ready for his naughty bit of education for the evening. His face quickly fell as he read the chapter: Knowing Who You Are.

Wow. We had come to the (what turned out to be one of the most important) chapter in the sex book where they talked about husbands stating who they are, what they want in life and how to share it with their wives so they can be a better lover. Whether he knew it or not, this was exactly what we both needed to hear last night. By the time he had finished reading, we had talked a lot, thought more and even sniffled a bit. The “mood” was quelched (momentarily), but let me just say that I really like this book.

What Wives Wish Their Husbands Knew About Sex
Don’t let the boring, churchy cover/title fool you. It’s real, honest and written by guys who know what they’re talking about. Which isn’t to say the Dobsons are clueless by any means, but unlike them, this book is really in-touch with the modern Christian guy and guys in general, and certainly doesn’t tiptoe around sex in Christian marriage. It’s usually really hard for us to read sex books in general because there isn’t any grounding for the act itself—-it’s just animal instinct and pleasure, and reading it leaves us feeling a bit nauseous. Not to sound like an Amazon review (too late!), but finding this book has been a breath of fresh air because it’s meant that the giant sex guide (or The Big Book of Smut as I call it) that we got as a wedding gift gets to stay under the bed.

And these guys not only talk about sex and love, but what makes a good lover. How to build your relationship with your wife so you’re happier as a couple and therefore honestly happier in bed. I can’t even count the times I’ve stopped Dan mid-sentence to say, “That’s exactly what’s going on with us right now! Listen to these guys!” It’s just really awesome how many good conversations this book has stirred up, and I can tell Dan has formed a kind of respect for these authors, more so than any of the others we’ve read so far.

So even though I might not know what all I want my husband to know about sex right now, we have a reference so we’re both learning together. And if my husband ever complains about the lack of “action” in our literature, I’ll let him know he’s more than welcome to dig around under the bed and wrestle the smut book away from the spiders. (Hopefully they’re the only ones who’ll ever have to look at it again once we’re finished!)

The great thing about getting married at a little-known park a few blocks from your house is that you can go there anytime you like and it will still be your wedding place. Churches are pretty, but 10,000 people might get married there in its lifetime and they will go there every Sunday and the industrial Berber carpet and padded chairs will forget you were ever there in all the traffic—-if such things can retain memories at all.  But with a park, the chances of anyone else getting married in that exact same sandy, ant infested patch of Bermuda grass that you did are very slim. The trees and earth, even in their winter slumber, will remember you and will secretly belong to that moment forever.

Which is why last night, on the date marking our second month of marriage, we walked together to the park. We exchanged lace and suits for puffy down coats and hats, but I had stuffed my grandma’s wedding handkerchief in my pocket—-a little token that I had with me walking down the aisle in October. When we got to the place, we split up and he took his spot beneath the trees and I came down the hill in the dark, white lace handkerchief draped humorously over my green stocking cap. The park was silent and dark and geese squawked somewhere out of sight. Nothing hinted of a windy, warm October afternoon 2 months ago, but in the silence I could imagine the red and cream paper lanterns swaying in the trees, sweet, sad fiddle music and the rows of smiling people watching my dad and I make our way up the bumpy runner. Dan would be waiting for me then, dressed in a sandy suit, untidy Dennis the Menace hair gleaming like the halo of a 6 year old in a Christmas play. Tears streamed from his ice-blue eyes and his smile radiated with every ounce of happiness a person could contain. Our pastor’s son would preside with words of wisdom that we would repeat, hardly hearing them….

I was still only halfway down our darkened “aisle” before Present Dan, at the altar spot, reminded me that I needed to trip a little bit on the invisible runner if we were going to make this legit. (Hurrah for being eternally ungraceful!) So after an over-dramatic stumble, I walked up to my husband of 2 months and we happily skipped all the ceremony bits we could barely recall. Flipping the handkerchief up, he went straight to the part where he could kiss the bride, with only geese and raccoons to cluck if it went overlong.

We stood there in the frigid December air for what seemed like ages. The park shelter that once held a wedding party was once again dirty and inhabited by the brown paper bags of hobos’ empty whiskey bottles. The small patch of forest that had walled the place into seclusion had a gash cut into it by a newly finished road that let in ambulance sirens from the hospital across the river. The stupid neon sewer pipes from the McLean/Central intersection pierced the once tree-lined horizon like the tacky skyline of a Star Trek planet. The grass where we stood was dead, but then, it was dead when we got married too. We had changed in the past 2 months, but not as much as our surroundings it seemed. Still, it was our spot, and with or without an overpaid videographer, I’m sure I’ll remember how it looked that day forever.

*

We slowly walked back down the aisle, extremities half-frozen and ready for the warmth of apartment and bed. Halfway home, we passed Dan’s old apartment complex and a part of me still twinged with the old familiar fear that he might have to go back to that place and leave me for the night—-but we kept walking. Christmas lights turned unremarkable Craftsman bungalows into fairytale cottages and we longed for each one as we passed. At 11:00 we reached the front steps and the cat greeted us noisily as we locked the front door. We brushed our teeth and fell into bed with the devotional book my mom gave us. Between the dishes and tacos, French movies, weird British sodas and long walks, that night encompassed married life as we had hoped it would all the months prior to October 2nd, 2010.

***

Admittedly, two months is hardly a landmark, and today only marks our first year together. Still, something tells me it’s a good idea to stockpile memories in writing why they are still fresh, and gauging from the length of this post, I’d say they are ripe for the picking. Marriages are a bit like parks, after all, and we will go through winters and the color will leave the world for a bit. But when we’re standing together in the dark and cold, we can still walk to that patch of grass in a half-forgotten park where once upon a time, on a golden Autumn day, two stories ended and one story began, “And they lived….” And the earth will be there to help us remember.

So far, being married feels just like dating, only easier and without the awful part where he says good night at the end of the day and sleeps somewhere else.

I know I still have a long road before me, but as of right now, this is the happiest I’ve ever been and it is freaking amazing.

The thing I’ve realized about getting married is that it’s like NOTHING you’ve ever experienced, and it definitely doesn’t feel like watching a wedding in a movie. No, this is a whole new beast. But we humans like generalizing things based on what we know, so I’ll try anyway.

Five months away, getting married does feel like watching a romcom. You associate with the general lighthearted excitement, drama and romance that the quirky blond experiences prior to the wedding, but in the end, the credits roll and it’s not you and those few emotions are all you can associate with that great event so far away.

Two months to go, however, getting married starts to feel a lot like watching a Wes Anderson drama or some gritty indie flick with weird, raw emotions, fears, longings and a whole bunch of other crap you don’t really want to understand. People cry and fight and die and sometimes things don’t go happily ever after in the end. And while the movie invokes deeper emotions than the romcom, it’s still a stringy brunette marrying Owen Wilson, and it’s easy to fall back into the comforts of Romcom dreamland after the gritty nightmare fades a little. However, something much bigger is looming ominously overhead, and whatever it is won’t let you sleep in romantic idealism long.

Four days away, that’s when you start feeling like someone plucked the stringy brunette out of the gritty indie drama and shoved you up on the screen and conveniently forgot to give you the script. You still sort of feel like the Romcom Bride; your hair got screwed up and your face looks vaguely like a pizza, but you’re definitely not in that genre anymore, Toto. Families are selfish and filled with hate and they won’t come happily coming together in the end. They’re doing construction by your ceremony and the park isn’t quite as pretty as you remembered it. Money is scarce and your fiance is stressed to the max.

And hell, it’s you getting married! You are going to be living with this random man you’ve picked out of millions and you will have to choose to love him every time he talks about video games instead of real life. It’s funny when the guy talks about nerdy things and embarrasses the girl in the romcoms, but it’s a little different in real life. You and he have to work to make this work because life won’t fade to black after he kisses you and swings you around in front of a happy, clapping audience.

No, getting married is nothing like anything you will ever experience sitting in the dark of the matinee. Two days to go and all passivity vanishes when you realize that you’ll be giving your very heart and soul to someone outside of your warm, protective shell self, and that’s dangerous and risky. But when I look at him and see the warmth, love and loyalty in his soft blue eyes, I have no doubt that he will wrap my heart in a blanket and carry it as carefully as a clumsy, nerdy puppy-man can. I know he might stumble, and I’m sure he might chew on my nerves a from time to time, but through it all, he will be doing everything he can never to drop me. Just knowing that makes all the worries, fears and doubts roll away like the names of stringy brunette actresses and their fade to black lives.

So I say, let’s do this marriage thing. No more fears, no more doubts—-just happy stomach butterflies. I’m ready to live and no amount of pessimism is going to ruin our fun.

Dan and I reached a very important point in our relationship tonight. I was freaking out, and he tried to explain to me what his role was in his family when people freaked out, and I think we both realized right then that the role didn’t apply anymore.  I wasn’t his mom or his sister, so the way he reacted to them is ineffective and he will have to create a new reaction, and I’ll have to do the same. But through this, I came to this very simple observation: we are the new family.

It’s a very freaky realization, this whole “new family” thing. Mom and Dad are sacred names, you know, and families are roots that have been around forever. You don’t think about creating a new family yourself; the family tree still exists, but branches of another tree have intertwined with your own and you are now on a completely unique limb. But the fact is, while we have no children, I will be mom and he is dad, and the roles that we played in our first families are no longer relevant. We are not children, we are not mock-fathers or the oldest child or the youngest child; we must create new roles for ourselves, essentially recreate ourselves in a way that makes OUR family work. We must be of a mindset that we realize that our past reactions to situations with our family are merely lumps of clay to build new, functional reactions with. Living shows that life theories and lessons you are taught growing up are important, and you should always bring the best of them with you, but when you break out into the real world of your own family, life won’t go by the rules you’re used to. The old you will have to be transformed—-not discarded, but reinvented—-so you can create and willingly accept new rules by which you both can play. 

Whoo. Growing a new family is tricky stuff, guys. It’s not even something I would have considered 5 months ago. Oh, the joys of 3 hours in a laundromat and pain medication.

Therefore a man leaves his father and his mother and clings to his wife, and they become one flesh.
Genesis 2:24