|This picture alone is kinda funny, but if you click it, it takes you to an even funnier cartoon of a drunk wife’s joke.|
Because everyone’s experience of marriage is different, I usually find it unnecessary to compare marriage notes. Except of course when it comes to purchases of socks and underwear. On that subject, I’m chatty beyond reason. I’ll even go so far as to poll the woman who avoids eye contact with me at carpool.
So let’s chat, Reader. Here’s what I would like to know: When did I become the primary sock and underwear purchaser for my entire household? At some point we must have made the switch, but I have no recollection of taking on the duty. And yet, I’m pretty certain it happened pre-kids, back when we both had jobs and social lives. Is this something you’re in charge of in your house?
I mean, what gives? Why the magnanimous gesture that now requires me to stand in TJ Maxx and try to remember whether it’s the ones without the mesh or the ones with the mesh? I’m not even going to tell you whether I’m talking about socks or underwear. I should leave something to your imagination.*
Okay, there was originally going to be more to this post than bemoaning the level of detail I’ve acquired about my husband’s personal garment preferences. I’ll try to bring it back around. I guess what I’m saying is that my marriage isn’t perfect, but it is full of both surprises and predictability. Nothing against surprises, but I’ll take predictability any day.
Did you read the Goop article about “conscious uncoupling“? It left the entire gossipy internet wondering why she included a polemic on marriage after the jump. Many have said much already, so I’ll spare you a dissection of the nonsensical gibberish on bugs and Russian esotericists. I mention it because part of me is interested in learning about other people’s divorces, especially of a couple who seemed so perfect from the outside like Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin. I’ll admit it, I’m curious.
Maybe I wonder about what pushed them over the edge because it seems like it’d be so impossible for us to divorce and still be friends, like Larry & Laurie David. I suppose we might if either of us were as witty and disarming as Larry David. Speaking of, he did a hilarious episode of Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee with Jerry Seinfeld. I loved Jerry’s take on why Larry got divorced, and I happen to agree with his notion of setting the mood. If I’m getting an ice cream cone, you’d better not order a salad. We’re in this together, socks and all.
*I should probably note that I don’t actually mind buying socks and underwear for my husband. But feigning incredulity at my lot in life is one of the ways I martyr myself to get appreciation. I know, I know. I might be the actual worst.