Couplehood (9 page)

He said, “Sure. From the whole family, or just yourself?”

So they have it. You just have to ask.

A
nd let me just say this:

It
is
important that you get the
right
card. Don’t get one that’s
almost
right and try to change it by hand. People know when you do that, and they don’t enjoy it. They mock you when you leave.

And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, either. You want a “Dad” card, but they only have “Grandpa,” so you think, “We’ll cross out ‘Grand’ and make it ‘Pa.’ That’ll work.… And, hey, everybody call him ‘Pa,’ so I don’t look stupid. ‘Hi, Pa,’ ‘How ya doing, Pa?’ It’ll be like ‘Bonanza,’ it’ll be fun.”

Or a little kid-card that you adjust for adults? “Today you’re five, you’re a big boy.” Little flick of the pen: “ ‘Well, today you’re
sixty
-five.’ How do you like that? ‘Today you’re sixty-five,
boy-o-boy.
’ We’ll make the giraffe a set of golf clubs, he’ll never know. His neck becomes a nine iron, and it’s a little bag with hooves …”

T
his shower-that’s-not-a-shower-just-a-party turns out to be a
surprise
party. Can someone please explain to me the appeal of the Surprise Party?

It’s never worth the effort. You spend months planning, keeping secrets, avoiding people, lying, scheming, spreading misinformation—all so that when the guy walks in the room, you yell, “SURPRISE!” and he calmly goes, “Hmm, well I’ll be darned.”

That’s it. Three seconds. Just so the guy can be darned. After the three seconds, you have the exact same party you would have had if the guy knew the whole time.

And if you’re the surprise, it’s even worse, because you have to spend the whole evening answering the same question: “Did you know? When did you know? You didn’t know? Oh, come on, you knew. You had to know! When did you know?”

You have to convince them. “I didn’t know. I
didn’t.
I’m telling you, I didn’t know. It’s my party—stop grilling me.”

Also, if you’re the one being surprised, no one talks to you for three weeks before. They’re afraid of blowing the surprise. So they don’t call you, they won’t get together with you, nothing. They avoid you like the plague.

Now you’re depressed: you’re getting older
and
you have no friends.

So you figure, “Fine. I’ll spend my birthday alone. Who needs them?”

You walk in: “SURPRISE!!!” And now you’ve got to
spend an evening with two hundred people you’re not talking to anymore.

A
big party hazard for couples is Flirting. Everyone loves to do it, no one likes to be called on it.

Here’s my thinking: The only reason people flirt is they want to know they still Have It. They don’t necessarily want to do anything with it, but in case they ever do, it’s good to know it’s still there.

You’re at a party, you’re talking to someone, you’re laughing, they’re laughing … but what you’re really thinking is:

“If I weren’t married, and you weren’t married, and no one ever knew what other people do, and actions had no consequences, and pretty much everything in the universe was different than it actually is—then something would actually happen here, wouldn’t it? It would? I knew it! I just
knew
it. Alright—I’ll see ya around. I just wanted to make sure.”

Even if someone you
know
has an affair, you get hurt, because the discussion inevitably seeps over to
your
house.

“Isn’t that unbelievable about Wendy and Michael?”

“Really.”

“If that ever happened to
us
, would you leave me?”

“Yes.”

“No, seriously.”

“I
am
serious. I would kill you and then leave you.”

The smart thing would be to drop it here. (But if you were really smart, you wouldn’t have brought it up in the first place.)

“No kidding around, you would really leave me?”

“What is the POINT of this conversation?”

“No point … I would just hate to think that we couldn’t survive a bump like that …”

“What bump?”

“No bump!”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m just saying … hypothetically.”

“And why are you bringing this up
now
? Is there something you want to tell me?”

And there is
no
way out. You have to walk out of the house, go over to Wendy and Michael’s house, and smack them because this whole thing is basically
their
fault.

C
ertain realities of marriage don’t kick in right away. I was married six, seven months—happily married,
joyfully
married—and
still
, one day it just hit me: “I’m never going to be with any other woman naked,
ever
? Seriously?… In other words, out of all the different people, body types, shapes, and sizes, you’re saying: These are the last breasts I’m ever gonna touch? Interesting.… I don’t think I understood that.”

It has to settle in. Bring it up again the next day. “Just to clarify … What you’re saying is: These hands will not touch the skin of another woman for, literally,
ever
? No matter what? … Even if we’re in different countries? Or we’re mad at each other or something?
Uh-huh.… So, you’re saying, basically, ‘No.’ … ‘No’ would be the word for me to hang on to here.… Geez.… And the same for
you
? I’m the last guy you’re ever going to see naked? Wow.… well, good luck to
you.”

It’s a mourning process you must go through together.

Because no matter how much in love two people are, you never lose sight of the fact that there are
other
people out there, too. And several of them are attractive. You can’t help but notice this.

And this has nothing to do with Not Committing. It’s easy to commit. The hard part is ruling out other commitments.

I learned this from my dog.

I’m eating potato chips; my dog comes over and stares at me with those doggy eyes.

“Can I have a potato chip, please?”

“No.”

“Okay.” He sits right there. Stares at me.

“Can I have a potato chip, please?”

As if we didn’t just have this conversation.

“Come on, just give me one, I’ll never bother you again.”

“Alright, fine. Here.”

Chomp!

“Could I try one more, please?”

“You said that was the last one.”

“Well, I made a mistake. Can I have
that
one? The one going in your mouth? That’s the one I
really
want.”

“You sure this time?”

“Yes. That’s the one that will satisfy my curiosity about
all
potato chips. I swear it this time.”

It’s not the potato chip he wants. He just wants to know he can have
another
potato chip afterward.

M
aybe we’re foolishly searching for something even more perfect.

Like when you’re in a store, and you’re ready to buy something, but you still ask the guy if there’s anything “in the back.”

“You don’t have this a little bigger? A little smaller? More blue? Less blue?”

“No, just what’s out there.”

“Well, you want to do me a favor and go
look
in the back?”

“We don’t even have a ‘back.’ We just have an ‘out there.’ If you haven’t seen it out there, then there’s no such thing. I’d go with what you already got there.”

But still, we look. I’ve seen men—adult men, mature men, experienced men—sow their wild oats, find a wonderful mate, and say, “That’s it, I’m ready to settle down.” Then a woman from another country walks by—“Hey,
I didn’t know
she
was out there. I may have spoken too soon.… Apparently
she
is a consideration as well.…”

Again, I refer you to my dog.

Did you ever ask a dog if they want to go out for a walk
while
they’re already out for a walk? They still get excited. The fact that they’re currently enjoying a walk doesn’t matter. They want to see what a
different
walk would be like.

S
ometimes I’m embarrassed by how powerful the “turn around and look” instinct is. I was once driving and saw a woman driving by in the opposite direction, and I actually turned around to look. I’m staring at her
car.
I’m basically straining to look at the rear end of a Toyota Camry, but still, I felt the need to look.

I’m not proud of this, you understand, I’m just saying.

Often, the curiosity we have is very limited, and very specific, and surprisingly
tame.
I know many is the occasion I’ve seen an attractive woman, and all I’ve wanted to say was, “Excuse me, but could I just feel your calf?”

More as a research project than anything else. “I was interested in the area on your back—just above your belt. It has an alluring muscularity, yet it’s in no way
unfeminine. What exactly would that feel like? Rather smooth and nice, I’d imagine. May I?”

And then, with her blessing, you feel the back, and you’re done.

“Just as I imagined: Fleshy and Good. Taut, yet not unyielding. Thank you.” And you go on your way.

I
was recently out for dinner with my loved one and noticed a striking woman sitting a few tables over. Now, because I’m not an idiot, I made a point of not noticing her. You wouldn’t believe how I didn’t notice her. She could have burst into flames—I’m telling you, I wouldn’t have noticed.

My wife notices I’m not noticing.

She says, “She
is
cute.”

“Who?”

“ ‘Who?’ ” she says, mocking me. “Miss 110 pounds of blonde over there.”

“Where?”

“Oh stop.”

I didn’t even get credit for not looking. I was apparently whimpering like a dog trying not to go for the biscuit on his nose.

Now, if you’re ever out with the One For Whom You’ve Forsaken All Others, and you do find you’re inadvertently gazing at Other, you can try to recover some
dignity by pretending you’re looking for some specific reason.

“Hey, Honey, doesn’t that woman look like your cousin Cheryl?”

And if they want to cooperate, they’ll say, “Where?
Her
? She looks nothing like Cheryl.” And you laugh it off. “I guess I’m just a big idiot,” and you keep walking.

Or, you say, “Hey, look at that girl over there. She’s got a stomach like a guy.”

Your loved one turns around. “Where?”

“Oh, you can’t see it now. She just sat down.”

The key to this one is bringing it up
first.
Otherwise, you have that much more ill will to overcome.

Now again, I’m not
proud
of any of this behavior. I’m just passing it on to you, the consumer.

S
ometimes, you can
both
stare at people and enjoy a rousing game of “Let’s Figure Out What’s Wrong with
Them
.” Fun in airports, restaurants, wherever you go.

“See that girl over there—with the earrings? She’s with security. Used to be CIA.”

“Okay. The guy over there—eating by himself? Just broke up with his girlfriend.”

“No
, she left
him
.”

“For her aerobics instructor.”

“Good call.”

“Okay, okay, okay—the lady over there, with the two kids? Those are not her children.”

“She’s not even related.”

“She takes different children out every weekend, because she loves children but is sadly unable to have any of her own.”

“Because of a radiation leak in the town where her husband used to work.”

“Which killed him, by the way.”

“Yeah, because otherwise, how come he’s not here?”

“Exactly.”

W
atching other
couples
is even more fun. You can make up stories
and
be really judgmental at the same time.

“Oh, they’re not happy at all.”

“No, they’re not.… Look how he doesn’t look at her when she’s talking.”

“Just keeps eating his soup.… She’s talking, he’s eating.…”

“You know, they haven’t made love in over five months.”

“Because he’s cheating on her.”

“And she knows about it.”

“Of course she knows.”

“That’s what she’s talking about. She knows who the woman is, where they’ve been meeting.…”

“And he can’t look up because shell see it in his eyes—”

“And she’ll know she’s right.”

“Of course she’s right.”

“Bastard.”

“Makes me sick.”

Of course, sometimes it backfires and blows up in your face.

“See that couple over there?”

“Yeah?”

“Look how he keeps squeezing her arm. And he really looks at her when she’s talking. I love that.”

“
I
look at you when you’re talking.… I mean, not
now
, because we’re looking at them, but ordinarily.…”

“Are they more affectionate than us?”

“No.”

“They look really affectionate.”

“They’re not. They’re exactly the same amount affectionate as we are. In fact, if anything, less so.”

Then we watch them a little more desperately, looking for flaws.