21 years ago today, Dan Iseminger asked me to marry him… I’m pretty sure he’s rethought that shit thousands of times since. Actually… he was probably rethinking it the day he bought the ring – he walked away from our biggest fight (at that time) – to go to the jewelry store. And, I’d think he woulda hafta been rethinking it the night before he popped the question – sitting in Red Lobster listening to me bitch about not being engaged yet…
Let’s just say, I haven’t always made that proposal regret-free for him. Hey now… let’s not dump all the bad times in my lap – he infuses his fair share of asshole into this relationship but….
I probably own the crown.
Listen… marriage isn’t all anniversaries and birthdays and Valentine’s Days. It’s deciding what’s for dinner every.fucking.night and clogged toilets and having 3 kids that all have activities at the same time in different parts of town. And drudgery, it’s god damn drudgery. You ever do those stupid ‘cleanses’ or diets where you eat the same shit for 3 days? It’s like death… and yet we’re supposed to look at the same person day in and day out for years, DECADES and be totally devoted to their happiness every.fucking.day. Here’s my advice people – you best marry the pizza of spouses… the celebrations are like pepperoni but basically you’re looking at many years of crust, sauce, cheese…. (it’s honestly the only thing I could consider eating every day…)
I’ll be the first to admit it hasn’t been all diamonds and ball gowns. We’ve run the gamut, Dan and I, from being totally, completely head-over-heels in love to throwing rings in the trash can (that was me, obviously) to living separately for a week deciding if we could stand the thought of spending the rest of our lives together. We can run the bulk of this gamut multiple times in a day…
The fact of the matter is – you don’t just marry this guy (or girl… I’ll speak to my situation from here on out, it’s for my own ease – please don’t take exception)… as I was saying, you don’t just marry this guy and his ability to make you smile and feel all warm and gushy… you marry his baggage and his issues and his inadequacies and you hope with all your heart and soul he can tolerate your shit, too.
Full disclosure: I treat myself to monthly counseling sessions. Probably I’d be more honest by referring to them as bitch sessions. I go and bitch about all the shit that irritates the hell outta me; quite frankly – it’s the best $25 I spend in a month. There is something so incredibly cathartic about venting. For the most part, my counselor understands my needs – she listens – period; sometimes she says, “hey you’re feelings are justified,” sometimes she says, “you have to learn to let things go,” but mostly she listens… Dan, specifically, seems hugely less irritating after hearing myself bitch about stupid shit; I’m pretty good at talking myself through stuff, and she’s pretty good at letting me do it.
Recently I instituted “date night” into our lives. The kids are old enough to throw a few Marie Calendar’s pot pies in the oven (for those of you in the know… I’ve still not heard from them after my strongly worded email concerning a much-needed foil ring). I like that our kids know that we enjoy each other’s company – they certainly know when we aren’t particularly fond of each other… I mean we don’t, you know, throw down or anything in front of them, but we argue and we make up and we date… hopefully that will make them healthy significant others (oh please… rest assured… we’ve managed to fuck ’em up a little bit but, to our credit, we have yet to tap into their “mental health funds” accounts).
Date night is a couple hours of concentrating on each other. Oh, we mostly talk about the kids, but we do it at our pace, with no eye rolling and “I’ve been cut off 4 times already” complaints. Sometimes we ask for a table in view of a tv and sometimes we just look at each other. I have to say, Dan Iseminger says so very much with his eyes… When he looks at me across a table… well, I just hope every woman – at least once in her lifetime – feels that unequivocally cherished and desired; I’m spoiled.
‘Course it’s Dan, it could just be gas…
For garsh sakes, I’m painting an unrealistic picture here… we just gaze into each other’s eyes, ignoring everything around us, pay our bill as we float to our car, then barely make it to our bed before we make passionate love for hours…..
uh… no
The more realistic story is our anniversary dinner. We’d always hoped to go to Alaska for our 20th anniversary – alas, life had other plans; we could only manage time enough for dinner. For the record, I did suggest an overnighter at our favorite B&B (I had worked earlier in the day and Dan was on call so we couldn’t go far) but he felt the cost was too high… and it was pricey but – it sure wasn’t 3 weeks in Alaska for christ sake. Naturally, I assumed his protests about the cost (ON OUR 20TH ANNIVERSARY) meant he had already booked us a room… so I let it drop. Uhh…. not only did he NOT get us a room but after dinner he drove to the B&B – into the parking lot, through the parking lot, out of the parking lot, home. What kinda person does that? I kept thinking, “oh, he’s surprising me…” Oh he fuckin’ surprised me alright…
Anyway… we did have a nice evening out but it wasn’t all romance… We actually asked to have the tv’s changed to a hockey game. Nothing says, “Happy 20th Anniversary, My Love” like talking to the side of my face while I’m grimacing at what I’m seeing on the ice… it’s who we are, it’s what we do… hahaha that asshat got some kind of sausage dinner – I can’t remember much about it but after the server walked away, Dan pointed to his plate and asked, “….remind you of anything?”
“Uh… sure does… reminds me that my next husband will have matured past 8th grade.”
When I mention being married for 20 years and older folks call me a newlywed – it bothers me. 20 fuckin years is a lot of work; it’s a lot of compromise, sacrifice, tolerance, forgiveness, acceptance, tears and it’s something I’m very proud of, even considering our stumbles. To be fair it has been more laughter and love and contentment and good times…
Because my life is a shit storm of horrific timing… today also marks the 6th anniversary of finding out my mom was not invincible… My mother thought my father was the most attractive man alive and loved him fiercely – to honor her – I choose to dwell on the day my heart was full, not the day it wilted…
I can, without reservation, say, during those all-too-rare times of perfection… I’m hopelessly and completely in love with my husband; during those everydays that take all I have to give just to tread the water of life, I’m just glad cheese pizza is my favorite…
Happy Engagaversary Babe… we’ve made quite a life together… You are my good, my bad… my soul mate and I’m so very glad you bought that ring ♥