notes on a marriage (part 1)

I saw this on Heather Armstrong's blog, who saw hers on facebook, and she has now started a blogging revolution with this married meme. Here is my version (in 2 parts, so nobody’s eyes glaze over):

How long have you been together?

Since October 1999. Which is the same month we got back together (October 2007) after our very sad separation, and it’s the same month our daughter was born (October 2008). October seems to be our special little month. I wonder if October is the month we’ll be visited by the Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweepstakes people with a check for $10 million? I hope so.

How long did you know each other before you started dating?

We met on a blind date (through yahoo personals, if you must know. And when it was free, during the wild wild west phase of internet dating before it took off like the dark horse it now is).

I'd like to add that I was quite the emotional wreck when we met. Have you heard about The Bachelor mess? The one where Jason, the weak and wishy washy dude just double times the chick right in front of God and everybody, on national TV?

Yes. I dated him, except he was from Douglasville, GA and going by the name "Steve" back in 1999. After months of I-love-yous and let's-get-married talk, within a matter of mere weeks , Steve/Jason discovered an innate talent to lie and deceive without blinking an eye, and an ability to date two women at once yet still look in the mirror each morning and like what he saw. Without disclosing the information to me, he'd been in regular contact with an old girlfriend for about all 7 of the 7 months we dated, and she welcomed it, with open arms she welcomed it. Even though she knew he was in a committed relationship and one of the Ten Commandments specifically says in a very clear way Thou Shalt Not Covet but she did—oh, she coveted.

Anyway. Now Steve/Jason and Ms. The Tenth Commandment Doesn't Apply To Me are married and they have a kid. Steve/Jason’s a sanctimonious pillar of his community who thinks and votes exactly the way Rush Limbaugh and Anne Coulter tell him to, even though both of those people are clearly crackheads doing it for the notoriety and money. And he’s not sure Martin Luther King, Jr. Day is a good idea, according to his Myspace blog. And these people and those people are Satan, and he knows for a fact this particular person will burn in hell, and some other strange hate-talk stuff.

I’m sure Jesus is so very, very proud. And impressed.

Do I sound a tad bitter still, after all these years? I wrote all that so you’ll understand exactly what Charles was working with back in October 1999. Because I’m actually WAY better now. In October 1999, Charles would often find himself having to interrupt me with sentences like, “Hey! Can this please be a Steve-free zone? For about an hour? Please?” And so, after we met in October, we decided we should just be friends for awhile before making any major romantic decisions.

…actually, *I* decided this. Charles planned us a trip to Miami, where he thought he’d woo me away from Steve’s disturbing memory. He was successful, but only after a nice meal at Ricky Martin’s Miami restaurant and a lot of flowers and chocolate. It was fabulous (Ricky’s restaurant), though I felt the chicken was a bit spicy.

Who asked whom out?

I think we both agreed to meet. In a well-lit public location. Also, Charles showed up in a rental car so I wouldn’t write his license plate number down and start stalking him.

But that is so not me. I only stalk ex-boyfriends I look up on Facebook and Myspace. And then I use their real first names and locations so I can expose their hypocrisies on a public blog, for possible global consumption.

How old are each of you?

I’m 37; he’s 12 years older. The age gap is rarely an issue, until we deal with technological matters. For example, C just recently gave in and started text messaging. Also, he’s not sure he likes my blog because he thinks I share too much information. He’s right; I do. But I’m like this even off the internet. Ask anybody I work with. And I’m really good at keeping secrets safe, but only if you expressly tell me I need to.

Over the years, he’s gradually come to accept my writing and blogging as outlets I need like air, but he doesn’t completely understand it all. Which is really sad, because Charles would make an awesome blogger—he’s got all KINDS of crazy stories, the kinds of stories with details and real life characters you just can’t make up, stories I haven't been given the copyrights to write here. And there are a couple of really good recent ones and it’s just killing me not to share here. But our conversations about these stories go like this:

Charles: Listen to what happened to me yesterday. (Tells juicy, hilarious story.)

Amy: That was hilarious!

Charles: I know. And I DON’T want to see it on your blog. I don’t want to read it disguised in one of your short stories or poems or essays, and I also don’t want your mother or your sister in law to let me know you told them the story either. This is an A.C.O. story: Amy Charles Only.

Amy: Man! You ruin all the fun.

Charles: That’s why I do the bill paying and keep track of the checking accounts, too.

Whose siblings do you see the most?

Mine, since my family lives a mere 30-60 minute drive from us and Charles’ are an 8-10 hour drive. But I wish we could see Charles’ more, because I think his sister is really cool and his nieces and nephews all make me smile. Charles has a fun, sweet family that is surprisingly functional all things considered.

I have a sweet family, too. But Charles’ family tells really, really funny stories.

That I’m also not allowed to write in my blog.

Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?

I don’t know any one situation that I’d say is THE hardest because there have been so, so many through the years. And we’ve spent a lot of time in various therapy offices working through them, so at this point I’m very aware he’d like me to take more initiative and then follow through, and he knows I’d really like him to get off my back about it. And he knows that: I have a hard time remembering to close the pantry door even though I know it drives him nuts when it’s open; I can’t stick to any kind of schedule consistently; and that I periodically overdraw on my bank account because I can’t stay out of Target. And he knows the bathroom (and the rest of the house) is simply never going to be the kind of consistent clean that makes Charles feel really, really confident.

In return for his patience and acceptance about all this, I’ve started to cook a lot more (which god bless him—he’s really taking a chance with some of my food productions), throw in loads of laundry every now and then, and I don’t surf the Internet until 2 AM…every day.

The two most important things I’ve learned about marriage are: 1) marriage is about compromise and acceptance of someone else’s small flaws, and 2) marriages cannot work without communication. If you can’t tell your spouse what you need from him/her, then either you need a new spouse or you need a Communication 101 class. Possibly both.

Marriage is also knowing that--when your spouse does something that drives you absolutely batty--say, not always closing the pantry door, you have 3 choices: 1) Become livid every time you see they didn’t close the pantry door yet again and start screaming about it, alarming your pet and the neighbors; 2) Divorce your spouse on the grounds s/he was a terrible pantry door closer; or 3) When you see that damn door is open….AGAIN…you just take a deep breath, count to 10, and quietly close it. While mumbling an affirmation like “I am calm, I am at peace, I am very very okay with being the pantry door closer person.”

Because that’s what I do when I realize he’s stolen the TV remote and changed American Idol to ESPN for the hundredth time in 20 minutes.

Who is smarter?

It depends on what kind of smart we’re talking about. Charles is smarter about people and not getting into pissing contests with them. And he’s smarter about banking accounts. And time management. And prioritizing his priorities. And recognizing what a priority is.

I am smarter about spelling, punctuation, grammar, and big vocabulary words. And I’m a better typist. Also, I’m better at sharing too much information and telling inappropriate jokes at the wrong moments.

But Charles can do math without counting on his fingers, and he's a better negotiator (which can I just say is really frustrating when having an argument—mamas! don’t let your babies grow up to marry contract negotiators). But I’m better at….at…at…

Okay, fine. CHARLES is smarter. Happy?

Who is the most sensitive?

I actually think Charles and I are equally too sensitive. I think it’s because we’re two Pisces. Charles is more of a barracuda Pisces, whereas I am more of a guppy. But it doesn’t mean we don’t both cry at the end of Charlotte’s Web (the cartoon version, not the Dakota Fanning version) every time.

…okay, fine again. I’m the only crier at the end of Charlotte’s Web. But I know for a FACT that Charles cried: when we got married, when we separated, when I came home, when we found out I was pregnant, when we found out we were having a girl, when our girl arrived, and whenever the UCLA Bruins basketball team loses to pretty much anybody.

Where do you eat out most as a couple?

I think we eat take out more than eat out. And take out is usually Chinese, from this one cute place down the street. He gets the duck (ew), I get the sweet & sour chicken or the vegetable lo mein.

But our favorite restaurant is Everybody’s which is a hip Italian place in Virginia-Highlands. And one time, we were eating there with another couple and a big cockroach crawled right out of the brick wall next to us. And the angry partner of the other couple got all indignant and disgusted about it, and when the manager insisted the cockroach was just a harmless junebug, our angry friend started making a Big Scene and called that manager a liar, right to his face.

So we really thought we could never go back to Everybody’s, because the angry friend was really embarrassing. But then the angry friend and our not angry friend broke up and the angry friend did something really crappy to Charles and now we only hang out with the not angry friend. And we did go back to Everybody’s and it was okay. And there aren’t any cockroaches/junebugs crawling out of their walls now. And besides, Charles says, so what? Because he used to co-own a restaurant and all restaurants have cockroaches/junebugs in them, it’s just the way it is. Just like all houses have dust mites and sometimes flies, too. Life isn’t perfect, and if you’re going to get angry about it and make a big scene, maybe you should order take out Chinese instead.

And then he orders the carbonara and I get a flatbread, and all is right with the world again.

The End.
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Part 2 of Amy-Charlesville will air tomorrow. Tune in next time, bat-friends. Same bat-time, same bat-channel.