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Honolulu Lite Charles Memminger |
Marriage institution
is like AlcatrazI'm often stopped on the street and asked, "What is the secret to a long, happy marriage?" I always reply, "Honey, how many times have I told you not to ask that question when we're on the street? If you're going to be sarcastic, wait until we get back home."
Now, when we are at home I ask the questions. Like, if a husband hasn't "strayed" in 25 years of marriage, does that mean he's saved up at least three "seven-year itches"?
To the young readers in the crowd, a "seven-year itch" is that time in a marriage, or so I've been told, when one partner's eye may rove a bit, dragging the whole body along with it.
So when I suggested to my wife that I've been saving up my seven-year itches, she said, "So have I."
Ouch. I've said before, the trouble with saving up seven-year itches is that after all that time, there's nothing worth scratching.
We are approaching our 25th wedding anniversary. The 25th anniversary is dedicated to gold, I believe. Or else tofu. Or perhaps an obscure root vegetable. I have several weeks to figure it out. I'm sure that the first three anniversaries are celebrated with rock, scissors and paper. If injuries ensue, the fourth wedding anniversary is celebrated with legal counsel.
But again, it's all hazy. After 25 years of marriage, everything's hazy ... memory, waistline, distant street signs, nearby street signs, memory ... Did I say street signs? What isn't hazy is jiggly, and what isn't jiggly is brittle and what isn't brittle has obviously been replaced.
WITH MORE THAN half of all marriages ending in divorce, and gays and lesbians clamoring to join the melee, you have to wonder about the institution of marriage. As an institution it isn't exactly Alcatraz, which is to say, escape-proof. People escape from marriage all the time for reasons as silly as a possible impending homicide. To stay married for 25 years these days without perimeter guards or angry German shepherds patrolling the grounds is something to celebrate. Actually, to stay married for 50 years is something to celebrate. To stay married for 25 years is something to be vaguely confused about. Twenty-five years? But that's impossible. I'm only 27 years old. Aren't I? What does that street sign ahead say?
From a husband's point of view, the secret to a long, happy marriage, or at least a long one, is to watch the movie "Fatal Attraction" at least once a year. That's the movie in which Michael Douglas has a weekend fling with Glenn Close while his wife is out of town. They have a jolly time, but then Close starts stalking him, threatening to ruin his marriage and his life. Douglas and his wife end up drowning Close in a bathtub. Or shooting her. Something in the killing line. Great family values cinema. Husbands and wives sometimes just don't do enough together.
Some married men, or so I've heard, might think about having one itsy-bitsy-teensy-weensy extramarital episode. A quick "Fatal Attraction" fix is the answer for those guys.
Myself, my eyeball is as the eyeball of a Roman statue, un-roving, frozen in place with only the love of my life in focus. But I suddenly realize that during the next 25 years of our life together, I will never be able to bring the "Fatal Attraction" DVD home from Blockbuster without rousing some suspicion.
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Charles Memminger, winner of National Society of Newspaper Columnists awards, appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. E-mail cmemminger@starbulletin.com