The Oddity of Love

I'm in an odd place today.

Odd in a good way, I mean. For some reason or another I've been thinking a lot about the folks I love lately (must be the season.) I've been thinking about what real love is, how to identify it, and why it's so important. I've got something about it bouncing in my head right now (no idea why!) and I think I need to run it down, so this here blog seems like a fair enough place to do so. Fair warning though: I don't know what I'm about to write, so it may come out as ridiculous drivel. Read on at your own risk!

My life is not like other folks. I watch folks who are always calling each other "sweetheart" and "snuggle-bunny" (YAK!) and I have to shake my head. I see them being overly polite to their loved one ("Honey, can I get you a beer? Can I wash your car for you?") and I keep saying to myself: "That relationship is doomed." Yea, I know . . . Dr. Phil says your supposed to be kind, caring, loving, and solicitous of our mate. Well, after eighteen years of marriage (20+ together) I can say with some practical authority that the man is full of crap. Lemme tell ya' about how The Wife and I work . . .

Like most couples, we have our own terms of endearment for each other: she calls me "asshole" and I call her "bitch" (The Boy made fun of us for it last night. Something about the joys of growing up in a dysfunctional family. Kid's a smart-ass! Funny . . . but a smart-ass!). If she ever offered to go get me a beer, I wouldn't drink the damn thing cause she'd likely put arsenic in it. She explained to a co-worker the other day that if I ever bothered to send her flowers, she'd know I was screwing around. Our idea of a romantic evening together is laying on the couch, under a comforter, watching "The Lion in Winter" for the 53rd time. (Ya' know: similar relationships!) People who meet us for the first time are usually horrified at the insults we hurl back and forth. They're usually waiting for us to end up in divorce court any day. Folks who know us well just laugh and tell us to shut up. The Wife and I aren't much for affectionate displays. We love each other desperately but it's not said in the ways most folks think of when talking about love. It's more subtle.

See, we never pass each other without touching; a hand on a shoulder or a squeeze of the butt cheeks . . . whatever. When we're in a crowd, our eyes always find each other and we'll stick out a tongue or just smile. When we walk together, we always hold hands (and we know the only comfortable hand position for both of us to do that!) When it's just the two of us, we can go for hours at a time without talking to each other and still be "together". She'll never fetch me a beer but if she's getting a glass of water, she always brings me one too, no questions asked. Love is spelled out in the little things. Oh, we both say "I love you" fairly regularly and that's an important thing, I guess, but for me the silly things mean a lot more. After twenty years, I can still make her laugh so hard she can't breathe. She can still smack my ego down with dry one-liners that are pure brilliance. Best of all: when we talk about the big things we'd still like to do with our lives . . . all the sentences start with the word "We". Oh, don't underestimate that word! It seems short and insignificant but it's the most important word in the language. I believe that all those charming couples I spoke of smother each other with their tender regards. They overload each other with the vapid romance crap until they are desperate for a little "me" time. They have to get away from their: "Widdle-Choochy-Bear-Of-Wuv!" before they die of asphyxiation! They run away, trying to find the "me" they lost before they have to put a bullet through their skull. Here's some romantic math for ya': Me + Me = We. Whereas: Us x 2 = Divorce.

Love is about being yourself, alongside someone being themself, and the both of you genuinely liking that other person. that's it. No more, no less. Let me tell you a little tale about The Wife that will sum up how our relationship works. When I was growing up I had nightmares every night of my life. Nasty, horrid, waking up in cold sweats, unable to move a muscle from fear type of nightmares. Lived with them up till my early twenties, when they mysteriously went away. It took me years to figure out why. It wasn't until a few years ago that I noticed that I still had the nightmares, but only when The Wife wasn't in bed with me. See, whenever she's really sick (ya' know: or royally pissed at me!) she will sleep in the guest room. That's when the nightmares come back. When she's there, I'm fine. I'm safe, and warm, and happy. When she's not . . . I'm all alone with the nightmares again. During the day, when I'm upset or sad, or whatever . . . she'll put a hand on my neck as she goes past me to do the laundry, and I feel better. There's a definition of love: when someone can make you feel completely warm inside just by being close. The romantic passions and drama are worthless. Find someone who sleeps on the floor beside your bed after you've had all your wisdom teeth pulled, or someone who will drive you 50 miles to work (one way!) in their pajamas every morning because you can't afford a car, and you've found real love.

Not sure why I needed to get that out, except 'Tis the Season and all that. Like I said yesterday, I'm focusing on my family this month and I'm not letting anything stress me out or distract me from that. Time is moving far too quickly for my liking and I'll be damned if I miss any more time with them than I absolutely have to. The Boy is heading for high school and already thinking about colleges and careers. The Wife and I are discussing retirement and how we'll live out our golden years. Too fast, folks. Muuuuccccchhhhh too fast! I'm taking the moments I can get, while they're around for the gettin'! I suggest you do the same.

Thanks for being patient with my rambling. Maybe tomorrow I'll make more sense.

Later!