... but, who's counting? In April I will have been married for 20 years. (Pause while friends pick themselves up from the floor.)
My husband and I have known each other almost 25 years.
We play a game, probably not uncommon for people who can see the other side of the mountain, i.e., I Know Who Your Next Spouse Will Be. His guess for me? Mr. Nobody. Mine for him -- well without giving too much away I finally figured out his ideal wife after having known the man for a long long time. And, Dear Reader, she is not like me.
Marriage is many things, not the least of which is that it is a cosmic joke that many of us, no matter how many times we're told the punchline, just don't get. And yet, every time the joke's set up, we listen expectantly, hoping this time, this time we'll be as delighted as everyone else.
My husband and I have known each other almost 25 years.
We play a game, probably not uncommon for people who can see the other side of the mountain, i.e., I Know Who Your Next Spouse Will Be. His guess for me? Mr. Nobody. Mine for him -- well without giving too much away I finally figured out his ideal wife after having known the man for a long long time. And, Dear Reader, she is not like me.
Marriage is many things, not the least of which is that it is a cosmic joke that many of us, no matter how many times we're told the punchline, just don't get. And yet, every time the joke's set up, we listen expectantly, hoping this time, this time we'll be as delighted as everyone else.
