Love Will Out (Shakespeare, please forgive me)

“Mawige.  Mawige is what bwings us togever today. Mawige, that bwessed awangement; that dweam wiv’in a dweam...” - Peter Cooke as The Bishop in The Princess Bride

Our wedding "cakes", June 2002

Earlier this week my husband and I celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary. I am not one to think of it in terms of a particular milestone. Rather, it is another year we worked through the challenges and enjoyed the good times in our marriage. We did not plan anything special by which to celebrate the day, nor did we ask each other for a particular gift to remember the occasion. On the contrary, we left the idea of gifts behind and we had no plans even of where we might eat dinner. Instead, we took the day off of work, sent our daughter to school and spent the day together. We went to a movie (one of only four people in the theater), picked up our daughter a bit early and went to the community pool, and finally came home where I made frito pies. We then settled into the peaceful fatigue of the day; the three of us lolling away the hot evening in perfect contentment.

On my FaceBook page I noted it as one of the best anniversaries we ever celebrated.

I tend to suffer from a disease of expectations. When I was a kid I imagined how married life, relationships and “domestic bliss” should be. I would say that this was a function of the fact that I was essentially an only child of a single mother for most of my life, but in truth I think most kids build up scenarios and expectations of how their lives with a partner will play out. My problem is that often I get “stuck” in the expectations and end up very disappointed if the situation at hand does not rise to meet them. My poor husband, who very nearly always has the best of intentions, often finds himself in a place where there is not only no winning, but no quarter given even for effort. I am pretty sure he dreads the following days to the point of insomnia: Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, our anniversary and my birthday, and let me tell you, he has good reason.

I did not grow up with any sort of Cinderella syndrome. I did not have images of a “prince” riding in on a white horse to “rescue” me. I watched my Mom work hard my entire life to get us by and I knew that was what one needed to do to succeed, in whatever endeavor. No, I grew up with a different fantasy; the one about the “sensitive male.” (it was the 80s after all). All my expectations revolved around a partner who was romantic and thoughtful and brought me flowers for no reason. He never forgot a holiday and always knew what I loved at any given moment.. I imagined I would come home to find a skillfully wrapped package at the end of a trail of rose petals…you get the idea. All this and I never even watched soap operas! Poor David didn’t stand a chance against those images.

One day recently, and I couldn’t even specify when, I suddenly, viscerally, felt extraordinarily grateful. Now, I need to qualify that statement because I consider myself a fairly grateful person. I know I am blessed in terms of a comfortable but not outlandish lifestyle, health, friends, family, etc. This day, however, was different. I was watching my husband and daughter playing in the community pool to which we belong and suddenly I was a smidge overcome by how lovely it all was. Those who know me will tell you how against living in this town I have been for, well, the entire time I have been here. I considered this a temporary stopover on the way to my real life and while I have tried to “bloom” where I am planted, I have been pissed off ever since that it has stalled me in limbo. But that day, watching my beautiful child and wonderful husband, laying under a smog-free sky, listening to birds rather than traffic, it occurred to me that this is right where I belong, at least until it is not. Later that day we went home to our adoring dogs, my faithful cat, a house that has been nothing but good to us and I felt genuinely content. What the hell took me so long?!

I think part of my realization has much to do with the fact that I am happily married. Not that being married, in and of itself has ever been any big deal to me. Rather, I always figured the key is the “happily” part (not to diminish what so many people are fighting for in terms of marriage equality – the right to be legally recognized is fundamental and ridiculously long overdue). What strikes me, however, about this ten year mark is how special other people seem to think it is and partly, that makes me a little sad. I live in a country where the divorce rate for first marriages hovers around 50% (and goes up for subsequent marriages). That number is daunting to anyone considering a “walk down the aisle”. So, is making ten years together such an accomplishment because the odds are equal that we wouldn’t? I come from divorce and long-term marriage in my family. Early in my marriage I figured it would not work (watching my parents?) and now at ten years I don’t have any doubt that we will “succeed” (am I being foolish?).

Copyright Oreo

As I watch people across the country who now struggle for marriage equality and the basics that, in some cases, people take for granted, I remember a scene from before David asked me to marry him. He and I were in a big box store and this older Norteña (an, ahem-traditional Northern New Mexico woman) asked David, “Who does this handsome man belong to?”  David pointed to me at which time she grabbed my left hand and said “I don’t see no papers. If you got no papers then he don’t belong to you.” The (other) crazy part of this interaction was that despite my “modern,” independent rhetoric about marriage not being important, that woman’s declaration bothered me for at least a couple of days. There is something to be said about being recognized by “the world” that you are part of a committed relationship; one sanctioned by community and/or church. While sometimes I think I beat on the Institution of marriage a bit, I understand why it is so important to many people.

Thus, in my present state of gratitude I have come to realize that love and the recognition of and commitment to it is no small feat. It is not something to be ignored or trivialized. Rather, no matter how one celebrates it; frito pies and swimming or a weekend away at the Ritz, it is important to celebrate it with joy and sincerity and the hope of continuation. And for those who have not been granted the basic right to do so in public with whomever they so choose …shame on us! Love, like hate, is one of the most elemental of emotions. Unlike hate, however, love is creative and unifying and a force of enlightenment against which hate ultimately cannot prevail (haters beware).

So, married, single, shacked up or just looking, here’s to “wuv, twu wuv.”