On Items That Save Your Marriage

The first time my husband and I went to Hawaii together, I was there for a conference. He joined me before the coneference was over, so while I spent the whole day indoor waiting for the dreadful sessions to finish, he was out happily snorkeling in Oahu’s Hanamua Bay, one of the few snorkeling spots on the island. Maybe you don’t know this, but my husband’s complexion is as fair as it gets, and it takes nothing for him to get sunburnt. He usually “dips” himself into 45 spf sunscreen, and off he goes. That day, he was so eager to get in the water and “follow the fishies” (his words), that he might have missed a few spots. That, and the fact that he spent a full 4 hours without getting out of the water made him a walking blister. His skin was, literally, seared. He was so burnt he was in extreme physical pain, preventing us from going out to dinner, or even getting out of the hotel room. As a good perspective wife I headed out to the pharmacy to get every possible ointment in commerce to sooth his burning skin, but I could not really hide the fact I was furious. I got even more pissed off when the following day we could not go to the beach, or be in direct sunlight, because he was just too burnt. We toured the island with him driving with the seat back completely down (you know, like when you try to have sex in the car?), so he could drive without having to lean on anything. I was steaming- so before heading back we stopped at a surfing store and bought a spf t-shirt- you know, those rash-guard things you wear while surfing (or snorkeling, you see!) to prevent spoiling every vacation for your wife…

We refer to that t-shirt as a “Marriage-Savior” item. He knows very well that the next time he ventures snorkeling without that one on, I am going to ask for a divorce…

On Being Gone

I have disappeared for a few days (remember??), but do not fear- there are more (many, many more!) matrimonial mishap waiting to be recounted...
Stay tuned...

On Zits, Black-Heads, and Intimacy

I can hear complaints already- OH MY GOD THAT’S DISGUSTING! Are you kidding?? We're talking about LOVE and MARRIAGE DURABILITY here!!

First things first, let’s clear it out of the way: the moment you males get married, you give up the rights to your skin blemishes. It’s embedded in the wedding vows, whether you like it or not, and you’ll have to patiently go through hours of “skin cleaning” from your wives. That’s it. It doesn’t work that you complain, whine, or even get mad: it’ useless. You officially hand over the rights the moment you get married, and in fact, I will say that the moment your wife stop pressing your zits, you should start doubting the solidity of your marriage.

I AM NOT KIDDING!!! My husband usually rolls his eyes at this point and tries to get away from me, but he also realizes that he needs to let me groom him, or I will get quite cranky.

There are three levels of intimacy with someone: the first one is when you kiss, and you experience the first exchange of body fluids in the form of saliva. Then there is- NOT oral sex and NOT petting (do teenagers these days still talk about petting?? Because, I swear, it wasn’t till I was past 18 that I finally figured out what it was!)- those come WAY after! The second level of intimacy is sex, penetration, “regular sex”, if you want. Then, the deepest level of intimacy known to mankind, the one that opens up everything else: Zit Pressing. When you get to groom your partner, there are no more known barriers- oral sex becomes natural, going number two in each other’s bathroom, burping- you name it, after zit pressing everything else is on the table. It’s pretty logical if you think about it: if something as disgusting as someone else’s skin infection or excess fat does not gross you out, nothing ever will. That’s when you know it’s true love!! I love my friends to death, and I have to say zit pressing is, if not impossible, almost completely inexistent. But my husband- oh, I would spend hours grooming him!

When we see a guy with, like, a very evident zit on his face, I would point at him and whisper in my husband’s ear: “The poor thing- you can tell nobody loves him!!” And when it is my husband himself coming home with a zit/ black head on his face, I always yell at him: “Look, your coworkers probably think I don’t love you!!”

It’s a clearly remarkable sign of love that someone would groom you. Actually, I understand this is not common topic of conversation, but if you talk to all your other married male friends, they will tell you exactly the same thing. So, stop being prissy and just give up: we’re going to groom you no matter what, and the sooner you start taking it the right way, the better for your marriage!

On The Two-Year Rule

I hate clutter. Truly, truly hate it- and I am sure it’s because I have been a pack-rat in one of my previous lives (extending well into this one!). My latest incarnation has a total hate for packed closets, old clothing, useless paper. I am the Trash-Bin Queen, the Closet Warrior, the Goodwill Fairy. And I enjoy it.

What can possibly give you more pleasure than filling up a bag of junk, and donating it all to Goodwill? What is more pleasant than looking at an orderly closet, and realize it’s like that BECAUSE OF YOU! What can be as incredibly rewarding as throwing out old clothes to make room for brand new ones?? (Okay, I will admit that the most I have spent in clothing items in the past year has been $6.99 in a pair of slacks- I also happen to be a TJMaxx Digger, a Ross Raider, and a Lohemann’s Aficionados, but I think this is the topic of another post!) In any case, my husband is WAY clingier to “stuff” than I am.

When I first met him, we decided to live in the same room he had for the previous few years, in a large house with his (fantastic) roommates. This made for a very, very small closet for both of us. This is where I started my shedding of clothes, which applied to both mine and his. He did not particularly like this. His closet was packed-full of t-shirts and really, really bad short-sleeved shirts. These weren’t that hard to get rid of, as the clear understanding was that if I ever caught him with a short-sleeved shirt on, I would break up with him. However, the t-shirts proved to be a true challenge. I could not get rid of most of those, and one in particular- the infamous Einstein t-shirt. You know which one it is- it has a Einstein cartoon on it, and I believe it is smoking pot. The best I can describe it as is “juvenile”, but I would still frown upon a fourteen-year old boy wearing it. Do you have the picture?

I truly struggled with it, and it took me about two years to realize there was hope, and it resided in the Charity Note. Charity is one of the things that truly resonate with my husband, so I came up with the “Two-Year Rule”: anything that has not been worn in the past two years can find itself more useful in someone else’s closet, someone with less means, someone who can give justice to the cotton growers who harvested the balls, the children who transformed it into clothing, and retailers who sold it to us… I was SO proud of myself!! Right after stating the rule, I approached the closet, all happy to be able to fill a bag of Goodwill-bound material… and he materialized next to me wearing the Einstein t-shirt- on top of about three others who were on my shit-list. Those damn t-shirts are still in residence in our closet.

Although in principle my idea had mileage, and it DID provide some good old-fashioned closet-cleaning, I know how to take defeat. It is a counter effect of marrying a smart husband, you know?? He CAN and WILL outsmart you when he really cares about his t-shirts.

Now, once every year or so, I will catch a glimpse of him wearing that t-shirt under his shirt, or in bed, or packed for a vacation… and although I win many of my household battles, I totally realize when I need to surrender.

On Being Arrogant

Game Theory class, 8 am, Tuesday morning. My team and I have built a pretty tough reputation- for which we got called arrogant, stand-offish, impossible. But we're making a lot more money than anyone else. we got grilled last week on our attitude, but this week we're getting some pretty good rewards.
"Being arrogant pays off", I say to our professor.
"Apparently," he replies, "however my wife doesn't seem to think so".

Good to know other people's marriages work exactly like mine!

On Right Answers

It seems to me pretty much a given that every marriage is based on the fundamental principle of Right Answers- with capitol letters! This might seem trivial, but it’s truly a cornerstone of every relationship I know of- and I don’t mean just answer to the infamous questions like: “Does this make me look fat?”, or “Do you think I have gained weight?”. This goes above and beyond triviality to get to the real core of everything you do and think, and the entire way you deal with each other.

For example, take flying together. My husband will always, ALWAYS ask me whether I prefer to sit on the aisle, and I know the answer is no. The fact that he asks is a nice sign of chivalry, and it is sweet, but we have a clear understanding that if we travel together, I take the middle seat. Do you really think I like the middle seat??? When I travel alone, do I take the middle seat??? Who likes the crappy middle seat anyway??? If airlines EVER had a true innovation on their concept, they should eliminate middles seats all together. What’s worse is that they KNOW: when you register for an airline’s miles program, you have to state a seat preference, and it’s always between aisle and window. Nobody ever asks you whether you prefer the middle seat- that alone should tell you something, don’t you think?? Enough digression- nobody likes the middle seat, so why should my husband ask me? Well, either he or I will have to seat there, and there’s always a choice. And seriously, I DO PREFER the middle. Why? Well, aside from being the right answer, if I ever choose to take the aisle and stuck him in the middle I know it will make for a very cranky flying husband, who for about 4 or 5 hours will be really brewing storm, and he’ll be even worse when we get off, and I get a cranky husband for at least a ten hours span. Now, I am not dumb, and I can take the middle seat without being cranky for 10 hours. I know the right answer, and it’s more- it’s the truth, it’s not just to please him. I don’t prefer the aisle. It’s an answer that has the nice side effect of sparing us a feud and a stupid bickering- and the answer is no, plain and simple.

I can take the aisle, but I cannot take criticism of my cooking, my planning (especially if I took the burden to plan when no one else did!), my sense of directions, and my general wifely skills. Questions that relate to any of the above, even in passing, have a right answer that my husband ALWAYS knows- not just to humor me, it’s a true and honest answer. If it wasn’t sincere, every marriage would be just a comedy, a race to find the right lies to please our partners… Our marriage is not a comedy, and I never even for a second doubt his honesty when he answers, and neither does he. He knows very well which ones are the right answers, and in exchange he takes the aisle seat, the best cut of meat, the largest portion of food, the laundry done (and folded, but not put away nor ironed!), and the last bite of the most delicious dessert which I ended up ordering.

Right answers are not about just saying them, it's about believing them. They become natural, second nature, all you need to do is just tell the truth. They are for sure the foundation of every solid marriage- or at least, they play a HUGE role in mine!!

On Husband Sickness

I know a lot of women- among whom my mother- for which there is no worse thing than a sick husband. Mine is actually fine- he doesn't complain too much, he is just truly miserable- I feel like squeezing him all the time, for he's ridiculously cute when he's sick: he's got these big watery eyes that make him look like a helpless puppy...

So, I have nothing against my husband when he’s sick- except when the time comes to do something AGAINST being sick. He will not medicate himself, he will not soak in a tub of warm water with eucalyptus essence in it, and in general he will fight any and all of my suggestions. Sometimes I feel he thinks I would not want his best interest, and prefers to keep on being miserable and sick rather than taking an aspirin. Am I such an evil wife???