So, in less than one month now we are set to reaffirm our marriage vows after 25 years of living them. It’s coming quick. I may be getting cold feet! I mean, really, this is a big set of promises and I’ve been soul-searching. I’m a little wiser now at 45 than I was at 20, and I have the benefit of hindsight here. I’ve been learning this guy for 24.5 years longer than when I agreed to marry him the first time. A girl gains some insights in that amount of time. And really people, I’m thinking we might actually be poorly matched. Maybe I should call the whole thing off. I mean look at this list of incompatibilities:
- He’s a night owl. Good God, how can I be married to a night owl? I go to bed by ten every night and nine would be nicer but I have kids folks. I’m up with the sun and happiest then. G is asleep for the best part of my day! And he’s abandoned for the best part of his. We have irreconcilable circadian rhythms.
- He likes spicy food. I’m Irish. Potatoes, meat, blandness is my comfort. Crushed red peppers are for madmen. Hot sauce on chicken wings is just wrong. Irreconcilable taste buds.
- He hates bugs. Which means lovely warm summer evenings by lantern light sipping wine on the back patio, enjoying each other’s company as the day winds to a close – ya, nope. Walks in the woods or hiking or camping, not so much. He gets eaten – for real. It’s true. Our attractiveness to insects is incompatible.
- He doesn’t like escargots. This could be a deal breaker right here. How can I even respect that people? How?
- He reads sci-fi. Not interested. Sorry.
- He’s a geek. Makes my eyes bleed with the details of the inner workings of anything technology based. Blah, Blah, Blah. I know how to hit backspace alright? Who needs more?
- He’s hot. Not hawt, though that works too, but hot. I am cold. Hot. Cold. Windows open/closed. Fireplace on/off. Furnace up/down. Sweaters on/off. We are inner thermostat imbalanced.
- He leaves crumbs on my cooktop. That is justifiable homicide. I. Don’t. Like. It.
- Despite a quarter century of exposure, I still don’t get what’s funny about human flatulence. We have irreconcilable views about humour.
- Although the man is brilliant, and might be able to think through just about anything, he cannot figure out how to drink all the coffee in his mug, then rinse and put it in the dishwasher. There’s smart, and then there’s tidy. I love the smart, but I want the tidy folks. If I pick up one more mug from a wayward place and find one mouthful of cold coffee in the bottom…well…just…well. We have irreconcilable tidy habits.
Do you see where I’m going with this people? We have a lot of differences. And we KNOW they aren’t changing. We are halfway-to-ninety and this is only going to get worse. Messy/Tidy, Hot/Cold, Spicy/Bland, Morning/Night… and this is only what came to my head in a moment’s rush. There are SO many other things that have the potential to annoy the crap out of me (hope he doesn’t pick this post to do with his own perspective).
Maybe I should just say it’s been a slice, shake hands, call the ceremony off, notify our guests, cancel the caterer, and the officiant, and the musician, and the kids.
Oh ya, the kids. Right. Hmmmm. We both like them, a lot. And we did work hard to make them. And raise them. And love them. And make a family for them. We do see eye-to eye there. We have lots of fun around here – okay, G does make me laugh. He’s hot but that makes for nice warm hugs and hand holds. He’s messy inside, but you could eat off our front yard after he finishes mowing, weeding, sweeping and such. And he is a geek but that’s why I have this blog…
Oh, alright. I guess I’ll do it.
27 Days until #champagne25