It’s been my experience that the best blog posts start with a confession so here’s mine; despite being on my second wife, I never wanted to be married. I mean, I think it’s a worthy institution and I’ll continue to fight to my last breath to make sure my gay brothers and sisters get to do it legally, too, but for myself I’ve never been a fan.
When I was in college I was engaged. It was a silly relationship with someone much older and I found myself talking marriage at an age when everyone else I knew was trying to figure out how to come up with the best ramen noodle recipe to go with the cheapest beer. When that liaison played out, I found myself happily single in a social circle that was getting married, divorced and married again.
The first time I tied the knot I did it because everyone else I knew was married and I figured to have someone to hang with on a regular basis, I needed to “grow up”. Simply finding other single people was way too heady for my 27 1/2 year-old self so I said I do to someone I didn’t know very well. Surprise, it didn’t work out despite it’s 8-year-reign of whatever. I didn’t cheat, beat, drink (too much) or gamble and the union produced my now 10 1/2 year-old daughter who is straight up awesome. But the fact is that marriage was doomed because we weren’t friends. Forget the word best in front of that, we weren’t even casual buds.
In may 2008, I’d broken up with someone who was a cheap knockoff of a Sex and the City character and swore I’d never marry again. I was becoming a good father, something I always thought I’d be. But I didn’t think I was a very good married person. I was working through mental health issues, making my crazy work for me in an everyday get through life, way. So when I met the woman who would become my second wife only six months later. I knew there’d be only one way it would work.
We’d have to be best friends.
My wife and I have some deals in common but not everything. She listens to country music for crying out loud. But she enjoys long, meaningful conversations.
She appreciates parenting, the hard stuff, like getting all “mom” or “dad” on a kid when they need it, and canceling “date nights” when the budget requires we pay for doctor bills, school stuff or prom dresses instead of hitting a movie and a steak at Longhorn.
She knows that curling up on a couch and binge watching gangster bikers on Sons of Anarchy or killing walkers on Walking Dead is just as sexy as getting as dressed to the nines and clubbing.
I’ve been traveling for work and I’m pretty much miserable because I miss my best friend. When I was married before, I traveled for work and enjoyed it because I didn’t have to be at home with someone who didn’t dig me the most and vice versa.
My wife doesn’t understand why I was depressed for two weeks after Lou Reed died last fall. She doesn’t get my compulsion to get up in the middle of the night and write. I know she will never comprehend my yelling at the television during Braves baseball games or Jets and Crimson Tide football. But the fact I’d rather sit in a room and blog while she and my 3 daughters, now 18, 10 and 9, put episodes of Pretty Little Liars into their eyes like a junkie puts smack in their veins means that I got married for the right reasons. I’m with my best friend. Now, I just need to make sure I don’t screw it up.
Here’s the Weezer.
I wrote two books. They got good reviews. The third one, a sequel to the first, Woman Of Troy, is on the way, next month.
The Ballad of Helene Troy, an underdog story about a female musician in New York City, and Soul To Body, about an ex-1990s guitar player trying to raise his teenage daughter after the death of his wife, her mother, are available, digitally, on Amazon.com for your kindles, and in paperback from Lulu.com