This week marks seven years being married to my husband.
I am a little tiny bit superstitious, so I'm wary of the whole seven-year-itch thing. However, after having done three minutes of internet research, I've determined the seven-year-itch only applies to couples who have children. Because they forget to maintain their relationships and stuff (the expert opinion of The Huffington Post).
Also, there's no way in hell I would ever want to be back out there. In the dating world. The idea of an affair seems really tiring to me. Not to mention that my husband and I have reached a point where we know each other so well (we actually met almost 17 years ago) that when one of us is lying, the other knows instantly.
That sounds really unromantic, the idea of me not cheating on my husband because I don't have the energy. The true reason I wouldn't is I have no reason to. I love him. Tons and tons. So much that I worry something will happen to him and then I'll really be up shit creek. It's pointless worrying, but I think it's an inherited thing I can't stop myself from doing.
To this day, there's no one who makes me laugh more. He makes me laugh and then says, "What?" And then I laugh more. You have to be there.
He still surprises me with his generosity. Never mind that he bankrolled me quitting my job to write my yet-to-be published novel. Money is never an issue for him. When I want or need something, I should get it. I don't take advantage of this that often because I'm cheap.
And he's got this generous spirit that, for starters, almost always refuses to engage in arguments with me. I'll get maybe a couple sentences into a gripe and then he says something funny and gives me a hug and then poof. It's over.
The other part of this generous spirit is that he gives so many people the benefit of the doubt, when you or I might think they don't deserve it. I'm the judgmental one in our relationship, and he's the one who will make allowances for almost any character flaw. He can find the redeeming value in almost anyone. It's an admirable quality (and possibly the reason he married me).
Things weren't always so ideal between us, but as the cliche goes, marriage is work. You work at it, and hopefully it gets better. It got better for us. It's not perfect, and nothing is, and it will never be, but if it were we'd probably get bored. For now, I just count myself extraordinarily lucky to hold this love and give it back.