My high school did “Bye Bye Birdie” as our one and only musical. I had a solo called “What did I ever see in him.” It started like this:
Eight years, eight years!
That’s how long I’ve wasted on him.
That’s all. I’m through.
Albert dear … (here, the real lyrics are “to hell with you,” but I was forced to sing “I’m through with you.” Because Iowa.)
I’ve had that “Eight years. Eight years” dirge in my head as of late. My Guy and I celebrated our eight-year anniversary. Eight years of wedded bliss! Or something like that!
I’ve laughed my head off. I’ve watched and assessed and tried to be a good partner. I’ve learned that his stress levels directly correlate to the number of doors left open and lights left on, and that it is indeed possible to be so preoccupied that you leave the freezer open. More than once.
My husband is a software architect and solves many big problems. Last week, he asked me every day if I wanted to have breakfast with him on Friday. And every day, I told him I had plans. Finally, on Thursday, he said, “In my mind, you’ve had those plans every day this week.”
It made me laugh.
I know I can be a crotchety ol’ witch. He can be an absentminded genius. Despite our general lack of decorum, I do think we renewed our vows a few weeks ago. We didn’t mean to – it just happened.
My Guy called from the car to let me know he wasn’t coming home just yet – a friend had experienced a very sudden, very shocking end to his marriage. He needed guy support.
Me: Oh, gosh. You do what you need to do to be a good friend.
My Guy: Yeah. This is just terrible.
Me: It’s horrible. I don’t want to do any of this!
My Guy: Me neither! I like you and I want to live with you, OK?
Me: I love you and and I want to live with you! Let’s stay married!
My Guy: OK! Let’s do it!
Me: OK! Have fun at the bar!
And … fin.
I stand by our decision to get married in the first place and how we renewed our vows via phone while one of us was operating a motor vehicle and the other one was holding a dachshund. Really, at our wedding, I shouldn’t have carried a bouquet – it should have been a squirming pile of dogs.
But looking ahead? I choose you, sweet husband. Probably will tomorrow, too. But don’t get too cocky.