All You Need is Love?

“Having a great marriage isn’t rocket science.  It’s simply a choice.”  -Kristine Carlson


Sometimes do you ever look back on certain moments in your life and think, “How did that even happen?”  Every once in a while Doug and I will be sitting around reminiscing about a certain date that we went on or something funny that happened once and we’ll stop and wonder how crazy it is that we’ve come as far as we have and how we manage to still appreciate each other’s company.  I don’t know.  Maybe it’s just me, but to this day, I don’t understand how Doug and I stayed together.  We met in college – his first year, my second – and two months after we started dating Doug transferred schools.  Nothing drastic like out of state or anything, but where we used to be just down the hall from each other there was now a three hour drive in between us.  Not to mention a good handful of gas money and the added fun of two class schedules and three jobs to work around.  It was a pretty big commitment at the time, especially since we dropped the “L” word the weekend before his departure.  We were also in pretty different places, personally.  I was an avid binge drinker who spent her mornings oversleeping, afternoons at class, nights serving and afterhours at various house parties testing the limits of my liver.  Doug?  He had a full time job working for a military contractor, so he was a bit more straight-laced.  I tell him all the time that he was essentially a fully functioning adult at age 18.  His course load and work load kept him pretty busy and since he was paying for his own apartment as opposed to living on campus like I was, he was more in the market of saving his money while I was more in the market of blowing it.  We were so different.  How on earth did we make it?  For real.

Our relationship for the longest time was essentially just a series of phone calls and emails (Yes, emails.  I think my cell phone plan at the time allotted me 10 text messages – including incoming – a month.  No joke.  Hard times I grew up in.) and a weekend trip once a month if we could find the time off.  We were young!  We were only at the tip of our independence icebergs!  Why did we tie ourselves down so early with such commitment?  Such work?  There were plenty of candidates of the opposite sex at our respective schools tempting us with their readiness to fill the void, yet we chose distance over convenience.  Pretty mature and disciplined, when you think about it.  Two things I wouldn’t have classified myself as back then, but here’s the thing…

When I sit around and think about all the drama we’ve been through – some out of our control, some self created – and how many miles our conversations have spanned and how many nights our emotions got the best of us and how many times we thought the universe was against us and things just weren’t meant to be, I think about the things that kept us together.  The things that – ultimately – got us to the altar.  Those same things are still present in our relationship and it’s those same things that help our marriage thrive to this day.

We’ve always been very good at what I like to call “independent play,” which I think makes us value our “together time” a lot more.  When we were doing the long distance thing back in those early dating days, we were able to focus on the things that made us independently happy.  You have to love yourself before you can love someone else, right?  Well, by having that time to pursue our hobbies and happiness – to be trite – we were able to bring our best selves when we were together.  We experienced a lot of things apart, but we also made sure to save some experiences for when we were together.  Even if it meant waiting weeks.  I remember getting our engagement photos back and how hard it was to fight the urge to pop the CD in my computer and click through all of them with a sappy smile on my face.  The anticipation was killing me!  But, Doug and I had discussed it months earlier that we would look at them together, so I waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Our schedules proved annoyingly difficult and one night after my impatience and his irritation with my impatience had reached a culmination point, we decided to drive to York (an interstate town halfway between his campus and mine) and meet at the Applebee’s hooked onto the hotel right next to the travel plaza and look at the photos.  I remember my mom calling about a half hour into my drive – we left around nine at night – and telling me how ridiculous it was to waste my gas for a late night, down and back trip when I had to work early in the morning, and I agree.  It was ridiculous.  But, going through those pictures in that window booth while eating french fries dipped in ranch was one of the best times and I still smile thinking about it.  Warm fuzzies – I’ve found – are warmer and fuzzier when shared with another.

Communication is another big one.  We talk about a lot of stuff.  Sometimes heavy, some times light.  Sometimes interesting, sometimes mundane.  Sometimes we say too much at the wrong time.  Just ask Doug.  One time we were picnicking at Yanney Park to celebrate our one year dating anniversary (yes, yes – roll your eyes if you must, but it was a big deal back then) and as we were holding up our plastic glasses of champagne that I bullied Doug into taking with us – he doesn’t like breaking the rules – to make an underage toast to our partnered success, I decided to bring up the topic of my serious consideration of studying abroad the following semester.  “What if I meet someone while I’m over there and cheat on you?”  I actually said that.  Out loud.  Well, something like that.  I suppose I shouldn’t put that in quotes.  It may not be verbatim.  Essentially though, I said those words.  To my boyfriend.  Mid toast.  During a milestone celebration.  No one said I was a master of timing.  However, being able to tell each other anything – even when the timing is awful and the delivery indelicate – is important and, think about this:  Once the conversational ice is broken – however awkwardly – no topic is off limits.  Some of the best conversations are had when the playing field is wide open. 

We’ve also developed a “friends first, lovers second” mentality.  Doug’s actual words.  Which makes sense.  I mean, think about it.  Before you developed a serious relationship you most likely had built a solid friendship, yes?  If you can’t maintain the engine, the car is useless.  It’s a challenge sometimes.  People in relationships are just that.  They’re just people.  We’re all weird.  We’re all flawed.  We’re all selfish.  One of the hardest things to accept is that – more often than not – the person you met is the person they will continue to be.  Doug will always leave clothes on the floor and stuff on the counter and never tighten the lids on containers or put the new roll of toilet paper on the holder.  By the same token, I will never remember passwords or care about learning how to do taxes and always panic and over react when we’re running late and act psychotic when the house isn’t clean.  We are who we are and the best you can do is accept each other’s crazy.  Friends fight sometimes, too.  There’ve been nights where I’ve yelled at Doug until I’ve lost my voice and others where he’s reality checked me so hard all I can do it sit in silence and feel terrible.  Disagreements are inevitable, but – with the right mindset – resolvable.  Friends also forgive.  Not always instantly and not always easily, but eventually and sincerely.  I’ve always felt this was one of the things that lie at the heart of a solid, committed relationship and I learned it in the most humbling way.

Somewhere in between our second and third year of dating I had went out to the bar with my roommate at the time.  After a decent amount of drinks, terrible decisions were made and – long story short – I ended up making out with a random guy in the parking lot.  Doug wasn’t 21 yet, so when I went out he was stuck at his apartment.  Well, once we had gotten back to our place I was a hysterical, inconsolable mess.  I’m talking instant realization and regret.  The next day at work I couldn’t focus.  All I could think about was kissing that guy and how stupid it was and how – even if it ended terribly – I had to tell Doug.  Well, that night after work I did.  I told him that a guy kissed me outside of the bar – “That’s all we did!” – and when he asked if I kissed him back I felt this weight just drop on me – dead weight – and I responded – “Yes.”  He stormed out of his apartment, slamming the door and took off down the street.  I followed him.  He walked for what seemed like forever.  I continued at a distance and eventually came to this giant, flooded area of the sidewalk.  Doug had plowed right through it, but I stopped just before and as I stood there contemplating how I was going to get around it or over it, Doug stopped walking.  I froze.  He turned around, looked at me for a while and then came walking back towards me.  He picked me up, carried me across the water, sat me down on the other side and said that what I had done wasn’t okay and that trust had clearly been broken and as I started to apologize for the thousandth time he stopped me and said, “…but what’s a relationship without forgiveness?”  I lost my shit right there and then, people.  He wrapped me up in a hug and I bawled my eyes out.  Forgiveness – while not always deserved – is essential.

I hardly have all the answers to a long and happy marriage, but I will say this:  I know I've got a good husband and Doug knows he's got a good wife.  And, tomorrow we celebrate five successful years of marriage (hopefully I didn't just jinx myself *knocks on wood*).  Wedding vows are no joke and promising to love someone through good and bad - to be completely generic - is a daily decision.  One that you sometimes come to with ease and one that you sometimes have to force.  They say all you need is love?  I say love is the starting point.  It takes a lot of different things to make it to the end of forever.  Encourage each other.  Support each other.  Be kind to each other.  Choose to give the best of yourself daily and some day down the road you can look at each other - hand in hand - and say with a smile, "How did this even happen?"

To Gift, or Not to Gift...

“All I know: Sometimes you love it and you hate it, but what good’s love if it ain’t a little complicated?”
– Kip Moore


My husband is terrible at gift giving.  You heard me.  I said it (or, rather – typed it).  Gift giving.  Not his thing.  Sometimes he doesn’t remember the date.  Sometimes he runs out of time.  Sometimes he has no idea what to get.  We’re not all gift givers.  It really is a bit of a skill.  I mean, think about it.  To give a truly memorable gift one must harness the perfect storm of casual conversation, context clues and memory retention, combined with just the right avenue of creative execution.  That’s a lot of things going on.  For a person who’s so inclined, it’s a natural, comfortable process that said gift giver finds quite enjoyable, but for the rest?  It’s an intimidating nightmare.

“What’s Doug getting you for Valentine’s Day?”  That was the most common question I fielded this past week.  My response?  “Probably nothing.”  “But, *gasp*” exclaims my inquisitor, “It’s Valentine’s Day!  He’s your husband!”  My countenance mellows and I shrug.  “Gift giving,” I respond, “It’s not his thing.”  So, what exactly is?

Here’s the thing…I’ve been in a relationship with Doug since October of 2006.  That’s almost nine and a half years.  And, guess what?  I still don’t have him all figured out.  There’ve been Christmases and birthdays and Valentine’s Days and dating anniversaries where he’s pulled out all the stops with flowers and wine and jewelry and love notes, and others where there’s goose eggs.  Nothing.  He’s inconsistent and sporadic – virtually pattern-less.  I literally never know what to expect.  I remember my 22nd birthday back home crying out in front of the Roundup Bar and Grill during a street dance because ONCE AGAIN Doug had “forgotten” to get me a present.  I berated him through dramatic sobs and animated hand gestures while he apologized repetitively, assuring me of his continued affections in his best attempt to calm me down (and divert the stares from the locals whose good timin’ vibes I was harshing, no doubt).  All the same, I can just as vividly remember tearing up while flipping through the content of a red folder that Doug had given me with logs of cell phone minutes we had racked up calling each other and a list of the “most used words” he had pulled from all of our text message conversations and copies of emails we had sent back and forth to each other from when we had done the first nine month leg of our long distance relationship, ending with a hand written love note that both destroyed my eye liner and made me grin from ear to ear at the same time.  You see what I mean?  One day he’s the worst, and the next the sweetest, most thoughtful chap of all time.  He’s a kamikaze.

Friday afternoon I told him that I was going over to a friend’s after work the next night to make his Valentine because I wanted it to be a surprise until Sunday morning and he said, – up front – “You’re making me something?  I didn’t get you anything!”  Internally, I rolled my eyes.  Externally, I replied with a smile and, “That’s okay, I just wanted to make you a little something.”  I was baking him a giant, heart-shaped cookie (literally, the size of an entire cookie sheet) that I had planned to strategically leave next to a gag worthy, sap laden, tastefully mushy note on the kitchen counter, hoping it’s discovery would start his day with a smile and some warm fuzzies to tide him over until I got home from work that evening.  I had a conversation earlier with a friend who had asked what I was getting Doug for Valentine’s Day and I joked that since he probably didn’t get me anything I should just give him “one more day of my love and affection.”  Cop out gift, right?

Fast-forward to last night when I finally make it home from work, which – quick back-story – was pretty far from a stellar day.  The restaurant I work at does a brunch every Sunday morning, which is usually a pretty big deal.  Well, guess how much bigger of a deal it is on Valentine’s Day?  To squash the suspense – a lot.  At one point we were on an hour wait for five hours.  As soon as one table would leave, another couple would sit down.  Serve, turn and repeat.  No breaks.  No down time.  Constant movement.  Grab ice.  Stock plates.  Run drinks.  Run food.  More ranch.  Where’s my beer?  Check please!  The tips were below average, two tables (who maintained a professional poker face of contentment pre and post meal) stiffed me, and at one point I spilled an entire tray full of orange juices and chocolate milks onto an old man (who ended up being way to kind and understanding of the mishap).  I – in an embarrassed, adrenaline induced frenzy – grabbed a towel and started squeezing the fabric on the sleeve of his sweater in an apology laden, desperate attempt to soak up my accidental “breakfast shower.”  He assured me that he was “just fine” and his sweater would dry and that I needn’t worry and eventually I quit acting like a skiddish mare, but man – let me tell ya – brunch was slightly trying.  Anyway, where was I?  Oh, yes – last night!

I’m exhausted and gross smelling and the left leg of my pants is caked with pulp and milk from the above trauma and I open the door and there’s Doug with a smile on his face.  Not just like a regular, run of the mill smile.  A smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle and his whole face light up.  And before I can even take my shoes off he wraps me in this big bear hug and says, “Happy Valentine’s Day!”  Cue all the feelings.  He had cleaned up the kitchen and hand washed all of the dishes and said that he had gotten groceries and wanted to know if we could make dinner together.  And as I stood there at the kitchen island cleaning Brussels sprouts while Doug told me about his day as he butterflied a chicken breast it hit me.  Doug had gifted my sarcastic jab.  He had given me one more day of his love and affection.  And – in that moment – the thought was actually quite beautiful.

It wasn’t a cop out gift.  It was a legitimate gesture.  That weekend my schedule was the complete opposite of what it usually is.  I was working late hours on shifts that I had picked up, our heat pump had busted, Doug had been up late correcting things that had gone awry at his work, we hadn’t been able to eat dinner together, or workout together – we were on complete separate schedules.  And in that moment, there we were.  Making chicken cordon bleu.  Together.  Doug, while not getting me a physical gift, had actually executed the perfect one.  And, that – I think – is his “thing.”  Doing the right thing at the right time.  Nine and a half years ago, he gave me school girl butterflies when he asked me to dinner and a movie and last night they were back, fluttering around again.  Who needs roses and ribbon when you’ve got a guy who can – with one simple gesture – remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place?  So, while his gift giving game may not be as strong as other husbands’ out there, he does have a way of planning just the right something on just the right day to make my sarcastic heart melt.  I think I’ll keep him around.