lucky little me

I've just looked over the entries of this blog from since I began this exercise in vanity. I realize that I've spoken about a few aspects of my life (dog, kid, food and community), but not the most important one. Lest the reader suspect that I'm uncaring and cavalier about my life-partner, I think I should talk a bit about Wifey.

I'm not a religious guy and I'm sure not offering any guidance or advice here. I chalk my happy married life up to getting lucky at a pivotal moment, then sticking with something that works. What works for me may not work for you, but for the two of us it's the mix that makes the fix and gives us our kicks....

I've come to a few realizations about my marriage recently. This match is getting to a respectable and venerable age (17 years) and as such, it's beaten the odds. Also, in our case it just seems to have grown better along with us. I'll troop out two important professionals in my life who recently helped me focus on these revelations: my Family Doctor (who is a bit older than me) and my Tattoo Artist (who is younger).

As a man over 40 who (at one point) almost died from a car crash, I take my health seriously. I'm one of those guys who visits his G.P. religiously every year for that annual checkup. It's clear to me that, when you're at the Doctor, digital does not refer to a satellite tv signal. My Doc and I have known each other since before I was wed, and we have a good relationship. Last time I was in we were talking about some physical aspects of "marital relations" (couldn't be better, thanks!) and he kinda floored me. He asked, "Well, you've been married for a while now. What do you think it is that has made your marriage work out so well?" That is hard to answer because I'm kinda an "if it ain't broke don't fix it" kinda guy.

The easy answer is "LOVE". Specifically the love she offers me every day, and that we share in our home with our son and family and friends. There's a running gag where folks who know us say, "Oh, your wife must be soooo tolerant." I will not disagree.

Other things I thought of were "Acceptance", "Respect", "Appreciation", and "Lack of Undue Financial Pressure". We accept each other's strengths and weaknesses as part of the entire person. We respect the contributions and concerns we both bring. We appreciate the millions of beautiful things we see in each other and share in our lives. On a superficial note, due to a reasonably large windfall about 12 years ago, we have been able to own a home and work through life without too much concern of "making it". This is not magical and gooey and sweet, but I have to acknowledge the pressure it's taken off us. It's a pressure that I see so many wonderful people struggle under. As John and Paul said, "Money Can't Buy You Love", but it can, in the right situations, eliminate a lot of friction and stress.

Last week I was in for my second session on my tattoo. (No more pics until it's done. Just too flaky/scabby/icky) I'm realizing that I quite enjoy the company of my Tattooist. That's good because I've been stuck on the couch for about 2 to 3 hours both times, with more to come. I find it soothing to make small talk with the smart and talented lesbian who gouges away at my arm with her inky motorized needles. Hell... it beats wincing and staring at the wall. She has a bit of the bartender/psychoanalyst in her and has quickly learned about how my wife and I met in music school, got married, had a kid, etc. Telling someone who is new in my life about that fateful Halloween date 20 years ago when my future spouse took me by the hand reminds me how long it has been. Long meaning ripe, and with growing maturity.

Wifey plans to go under the needle as well, so I was asking my artist what she thought is a good location for a tattoo on a woman, in her artistic opinion. My artist asked what kind of body-type my wife is. Oooh, that puts me in the trouble zone. I hesitated and thought of the best way to put it. I told my Tattooist that my wife isn't very tall, nor is she overly skinny the way, too often, women are expected to be in our culture. I said she was "fine", with emphasis on the word, much like you might hear it said on one of those black sitcoms from the States. "Fine" as in special, rare, and excellent, with an implication of curve and bounce. That she is, indeed.

That got me thinking about evening plans. I told my artist, between the buzzing and dabbing of blood, that we'd had an unexpected windfall. It turned out that our son's friend's birthday party had been extended to a sleepover, and that we would have the house to ourselves that night. Anyone who is a parent will understand how valuable a night alone is. Casual nudity and loud vocalizations, once forgotten, may be rediscovered. My Tattoo Artist laughed darkly and said, "Oh, Tim, she's gonna tie you to a chair." Sounded good to me. Actually, that didn't happen, but we did do a few new things on the stairway. And we scared that family of raccoons out the cedar tree in the back yard.

Lucky little me to have such a wife in my life.