Authors: Chris Evans
Marriage is the ultimate proof that we human beings are the nuttiest bunch of idealistic romantics in the universe.
Why, for example, do we not feel compelled to marry our cats or our dogs or our cars or our shoes?
There’s no point because there’s no need. Most of us marry, I’m guessing, because it makes us feel more secure. But I fear the truth
is few of us truly know the answer.
The same goes for why some of us stay married and some of us don’t. The odds suggest it’s a crap shoot at best.
I’ve been married three times now. So what does that make me? Really bad at marriage, or an expert? Does it make me a liar for going back on my vows? Or does it make me the epitome of honesty because I had the courage to admit when the vows I had undertaken no longer felt genuine?
A recent survey put a series of questions to people who had been told they were going to die. Some had reached their life expectancy, some were a long way short of it, some had outlived their own predicted mortality. Assured of anonymity, each individual was asked to disclose the biggest lie of their life. A staggering 76 per cent of those questioned revealed that they regarded their marriage as the biggest lie; they were no longer in love with the person they were married to. Furthermore, 85 per cent of those who gave that response conceded that this had been the case for many years.
It seems incredible, doesn’t it? At first, that is. But, realistically, what are the chances of meeting someone – purely coincidentally – and then successfully forging a partnership until death do you part?
So when did the concept of marriage begin and why?
Marriage has been around for thousands of years. Its original purpose was to confirm ownership of a woman by a man. Where genuine affection was involved, a wife might enjoy the protection of her husband and no longer need to worry about predatory males, be they rapists, drunkards, murderers or braggarts. In many cases, however, it was more a matter of, ‘She’s my personal slave now, so go sling your hook and find your own.’
Times have changed in the thousands of years since the legal contract of marriage was first introduced, and society has changed beyond recognition. Marriage needs to be readdressed accordingly. In many ways, it’s the relationship equivalent of global warming, a situation in which we have tacitly and collectively agreed that apathy is the way forward and one day we’ll wake up and everything will suddenly be all right.
Most men and women I know who are happily married – and for ‘happily’ read ‘still’ – remain so purely because they have made the decision that that’s how it’s going to be. No more, no less.
Put another way, they have come to the conclusion via whatever means or reasoning available to them, that life will be infinitely more enjoyable, sustainable and economically sound if they face it as part of a double act rather than as a free-spirited but potentially lonely old solo artist.
There was a time when most couples met at work – not ideal for cultural parity but undoubtedly an advantage when it comes to sharing common ground and references within a common parlance. These days, many couples meet via the Internet – which used to be a bit embarrassing, though not any more, and quite right too. Far better for the world, in my opinion, to have more diverse characters swimming in a much deeper and more interesting pool. Not to mention the advantage of being able to check one another out before committing to so much as half a shandy and a bag of crisps in each other’s company.
The other thing I like about this approach is that it marks a return to the original ethos of marriage as a workable deal based on what each party can bring to the table. From day one there is a gritty honesty about what the relationship is based on. Far better that than all the
Romeo and Juliet
nonsense. Hollywood has a lot to answer for, as does Prince Charming,
Swan Lake
and all that other mush and slop.
So, how do we go about evaluating marriages/relationships we might already be in without giving the game away?
Comparison between our own relationship and those of others is one way to go, I suppose. We none of us really know what makes other people’s relationships tick unless one or both parties invite us in for a look (such an insight can never be requested). To truly find out what works and doesn’t work for other couples, one must wait, silently, like a patient angler perched on a riverbank.
And then boom, there it is, a huge bite that’s almost impossible to miss.
What I’m talking about here is the moment when someone trusts us
enough to bring up the subject of their marriage and tell us how they feel about it. The key then is to listen to what they have to say and see if any of it can help us fathom out our own. And believe me, they won’t stop talking unless you interrupt them. And the longer we can resist butting in, the more they’ll open up.
They’ll probably claim to be seeking your advice, but of course they’re doing nothing of the sort. They are merely downloading all their shit on to you. And it will get heavier and heavier the longer they continue. So heavy perhaps that you may reach breaking point and want to step aside to avoid suffocating under the weight and stench of it all. In which case, fear not for their fragility or the risk you might upset them – the chances are they won’t even notice you’ve moved. They’re on a roll, they’ve come to talk and there’s nothing and no one that’s going to stop the flow.
After a good listening session we should have plenty to work with when it comes to comparing and contrasting our own relationships – their strengths, weaknesses, foibles and idiosyncrasies – with theirs. A rare moment of context in the mysterious, nonsensical world of a man and woman committing to decades of unwarranted, unworkable togetherness, and trying to make the impossible possible, or at worst bearable.
After ten or so good listens to ten or so good mates or colleagues (the latter tend to be even keener to open up/download due to the lack of intimacy and therefore reduced risk of their partner finding out), we should have a useful and usable swatch of what constitutes a sustainable modern-day relationship.
Be mindful, however, of placing too much stock in what people say about their marriage/relationship when they are away from their partner. Partners together in public often interact very differently to the way they do in private. Those that are not getting on well often put on a brave face, while those who get on reasonably well can end up inexplicably bickering for no apparent reason.
You always hurt the one you love. Ain’t that the truth?
As individuals, the best we can do is go through life with the aim of creating and preserving as much joy and laughter as
possible without hurting anything or anyone en route. But what’s the point of all that joy and laughter if we don’t share it? That’s the reason many of us form relationships and decide to get married. But marriage is a legal contract involving practicality and pragmatism – and we all know what a shitstorm of complications that combination can lead to.
‘It’s no good sweeping problems under the carpet,’ goes the age-old phrase.
Well, why not? If the carpet’s big enough and no one’s going to be around to discover what might be under there long after the main protagonists have departed this mortal coil, what harm can it do?
I have one pal whose marriage is an intermittent ‘nightmare’, her husband doesn’t understand her, blah, blah, blah. She’s had one affair and is contemplating another, yet you’ve never seen a happier, more caring couple when things are going well. Surely it’s OK to be like that, providing everyone’s happy in the final mix?
Conversely I know lots of couples who never row, never call each other names but are utterly miserable. Surely that’s worse?
Then there’s a guy I’ve known for years who unapologetically states that he and his wife are like a pair of inseparable attack dogs, trained to rip apart anyone or anything that gets in their way, front, back and all over. They don’t get invited out much, but it really doesn’t seem to bother them.
Another friend of mine worships the ground his wife walks on yet he never tells her. Never has done. As far as I’m aware she has no idea how much he adores her.
‘Why don’t you tell her?’ I ask him every now and again when I can be bothered.
‘Well, it’s obvious, it would ruin everything.’ So sad. Or is it? What if he did let her and it did ruin everything?
Each of these couples is as crazy and illogical as the next, each locked in their own unique bubble of togetherness. Living by their own rules of coupledom. But how about this: SHOCK HORROR, I recently discovered all three couples have something huge in common. They’ve all undergone marriage counselling in one form or another.
In my experience, relationship therapy is like a lot of things in life: once you start talking to people about it, you realize it’s far more prevalent than you ever imagined. I remember the same sense of revelation when it came to discussing miscarriages and latterly IVF treatment.
So many couples have been through so much of the same crap, but it’s only when you bring up the topic that you find out. And you also find out that talking about it, this deep dark secret you’ve been carrying, makes everyone feel instantly better.
Talking, sleep, exercise, good food and plenty of water: the famous five of healing.
Anyway, the marriage guidance fact got me to thinking: why don’t we all go preventive as opposed to reactive? Why wait to be stuck in a mire of depression with poisonous doubts and dark thoughts when all the help we need is out there? As a famous sportsman once told me, ‘It’s easier to stay warm than get warm’.
The Relationship Counsellor
Determined to seek some sage advice for all our sakes, I popped off one morning after my radio show to spend a fascinating few hours in the company of someone I will refer to only as Dr H. Having worked with couples for over forty years, Dr H is considered by many to be the über-guru of relationship counselling.
Dr H works from home, the top floor of her beautiful grand old Victorian house. She considers her job something she was born to do, a lifelong vocation of trying to help couples help themselves. Dr H tells me she is as fascinated and compelled by what she sees and hears today as she was the day she started.
My mission is to gather as many tips as possible for the future. Plain and simple. To find out what we might want to bear in mind in order to safeguard what we have. Or point us in the direction of what we might need. Even though I have been reliably informed that tips and quick fixes are not Dr H’s style, but no matter: I’ll take what I can get.
It is a Tuesday morning in early June, but more like autumn, blowy and rainy like the opening scene in a Woody Allen film. Dr H answers the door with what may have been a brief half-smile, but so brief I can’t be sure. Whatever it was, eye contact was not part of it; her eyes were looking down at the floor before mine had any chance of engaging. Was this nerves? Reluctance? Or was it perhaps her way of letting me know any exchange between us was of no importance until we were upstairs in the room where the couples’ ‘work’ took place.
The situation was already a lot more serious than I expected. But then what was I expecting? This was not a lady desperate to become part of television’s roster of so-called experts on all matters of the head, heart and spleen. It had taken weeks of persuasion for this woman to even consider seeing me.
As I clambered up a never-ending spiral of marvellously creaking stairs, becoming ever more breathless, I couldn’t help wondering if this is why she looked so fit, healthy and sparkling for her age. By the time we arrived at the top floor I was fairly wheezing whereas Dr H was flat calm and breathing normally.
Her counselling room set in the eaves is small but light with white-painted walls – reassuringly secure and private. Dr H instructs me to sit in the single chair, which will position me to her left as she settles in her usual spot with her back to the window. I can’t help noticing how her mass of thick, snow-white hair blends into the fluffy white clouds behind. Eerily, there’s an empty couples’ sofa to my right, a world away from the champagne and roses of a first date.
I’m nervous. I need to be on my game. I can sense that this is perhaps the most no-nonsense person I’ve ever interviewed staring back at me. For sure there’s eye contact now. For sure we’re now working. For sure I’d better not waste a word and get on with this.
First, I ask her about marriage as a concept.
‘What a load of old stuff and nonsense. What a remarkably unworkable idea. No wonder so many of us struggle with it at various times in our lives,’ she begins.
Immediately I’m gripped.
‘You may have already worked out that none of us are at all sure why we get married in the first place. All one has to do to come to that conclusion is ask yourself that very question and see what you come up with. Then go and ask some of your friends. And after that, if you’re feeling super brave, I dare you to actually ask the person you’re married to. Marriage is weird, plain and simple, but people continue to go through with it every day, somewhere in the world.
‘The most popular, which also happens to be the least convincing answer I repeatedly hear is, “We just wanted to make a statement to ourselves and the rest of the world.” Not at all insincere but flimsy at best, entirely unconvincing if I’m being less kind.
‘To me this smacks of an after-the-fact attempt at mitigation. Have you ever heard of someone proposing to someone else and qualifying it with, “Please, will you consider marrying me as I think it’s time we made an official statement to ourselves and the rest of the world”? That sounds more like an emergency meeting of the G8 than love personified.
‘The harsh reality is: many of us don’t know why we get married, we just do. There’s invariably a moment when it suddenly seems like a good idea. Or, “it’s time”. In the same way it might be a good idea to retile the bathroom or time to have a ham sandwich. There’s a lot more hit and hope going on than we might think. Should we not discuss what game it is we’re playing in the first case?’