MARRIED LIFE GOING LONG, LONGER, KEEP GOING

Married life seems long when you think how long you’ve been married.

Then someone else says they’ve been married longer and calls you newly weds.

Newly weds after thirty-seven years? That’s it?

I keep it more basic: Every day has a first date feel. You remember first dates?

My single man days had one rule: No dates.

No plans, no dress up, no event. Instead it was just living life with who ever was around.

With that in mind, people were around.

If no one was around, what did I do? Whine, complain, go online to whine and complain for a new audience?

Not in the 70’s and 80’s. The only people online back then were tightrope walkers and things didn’t always turn out for the best.

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With no one around I read books and took walks and worked out like no one was watching.

I hung around wherever I was at the time.

In Philadelphia my big walk was the Ben Franklin Parkway.

In Brooklyn I took walks out from my apartment and back to get the lay of the land.

Except I didn’t walk. I put on running shoes and shorts and lit out with pace.

Why? Because I was a fitness nut before everyone turned into fitness nuts? Not exactly.

These were big-ass cities full of good people and a fringe of ‘What’re you lookin’ at’ guys.

I lived alone with no one to call if I had a problem with the locals.

Everyone I knew lived three thousand miles away.

Being a runner, I got to see more of the neighborhoods. If things went the wrong way, I had a kick and scooted off.

Was I a brave urban pioneer, or a chicken little on the run? I’d say both.

Did I meet any Brides-In-Waiting? Yes I did. And their families, too.

This was all before the age of ‘All my friends are getting married, what do you think?’

I wasn’t thinking about married life, and I wasn’t alone with my thoughts.

Marriage Thoughts In Queens

I knew a guy from work. We were on the 7th floor of One Battery Park Plaza in the After Settlement Day group for E. F. Hutton.

He was a big Italian guy my age who spoke the language.

We used to get lunch on the third floor with the panoramic view of Hudson Bay and the Statue of Liberty just sitting out there. To regulars it was an everyday thing. To me it was an amazing sight.

I was also the guy who thought of the subways as carnival rides for context.

Another group in the huge lunch room / cafeteria also spoke Italian.

Five young women gathered in gowns at the same table looking like extras from a Hollywood prom musical.

They were made up, dressed up, and would have been a good match for any models on the cover of Vogue.

My pal abandoned me and started sitting with them and talking Italian and laughing it up for a good time.

A week later one of the girls came over to my table. We hit it off. Took a walk across the street to Battery Park through the Navy Memorial.

The grandest tribute in Battery Park by far, this World War II Veterans Memorial faces the Statue of Liberty head on. An 18 foot tall bronze eagle surveys granite columns with patriotic pride. Though the bird weighs five tons, she lifts our spirits. It’s a fitting feeling because each granite pylon lists the names of soldiers lost in WWII. There are more than 4,600 here, all lost in the Atlantic Ocean during the war.

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After that my buddy told me to turn it down.

“These beautiful girls are here to find a rich husband, not us. Their families support them and they live at home until they get married. Doing anything else would brand them whores in their brothers’, fathers’, uncles’ and nonno’s eyes.

“Those are also the people who will come after you if they think you’re doing something wrong.”

Then he invited me out to Queens to meet his family. They lived in a building with a single man apartment, newly wed apartment, first kid, second kid, then the empty nest apartment, and back to the single person apartment.

And they were all occupied, the circle of married life in full swing.

“This is why we never leave the city, and you won’t either if you start dating Sophia.”

Married Life Talk In Portland

In the category of ‘Believe Them When They Tell You’ I left NYC a few months later. I was falling under the spell of the city. If I didn’t leave then I never would, was the feeling.

And it’s contagious. Just ask a New Yorker. Or ask anyone within a hundred miles.

“Oh my goodness, we could never move away. We’d miss the shows, the museums, the parks.”

They get to town a few times each decade, rain or shine.

I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t make it in New York. But I really did make it there.

I was no different than the other clerks with their job, their apartments, their wives and kids.

The big difference is I chose not to. Which has been a personal joke ever since.

If I could make it there, I could make it anywhere. My feeling was I could make it anywhere if I wasn’t being hunted down by beautiful Sophia’s rabid brothers and uncles.

I stepped off the Trailways bus in Portland’s Old Town and met my ride, a woman with hopes and dreams we shared.

Until I cast a shadow over her hopes and dreams. She realized I wasn’t the one when she told me we weren’t getting married.

We weren’t? That seems like something I ought to know. Then I knew. I didn’t say, “If I wanted married life I would have stayed in New York.”

Marriage wasn’t at the top my To Do list, but getting an apartment in NW Portland was.

Lovejoy Was All That

For you kids out there dating, be aware of your surroundings.

In my non-dating phase of ‘It’s Not A Date,’ I went on double dates.

I married one of my double date girls who happened to be the girlfriend of the other guy on the double date.

We got married after the old boyfriend squared up on me for a revenge fight in front of her.

I felt like a, ‘you took my girl so I’m kicking your ass,’ kind of thing.

I didn’t take anyone, but I knew if I unleashed bulldog hell on the angry ex, she might feel sorry for him.

To avoid that I took a few hits and kicks until princess locked herself in a bathroom and out of sight.

The guy was still circling me looking to land a knock-out blow to my head or crotch.

“If you leave now you can walk out the door; if you don’t I’ll knock you out and drag you down the stairs feet first and leave your passed out ass on the sidewalk for bums to piss on. Your choice. There’s the door. Open it and leave, or stay and get hammered. I’m counting, 3, 2, 1.”

He left.

The next day I took my girl to meet my family. The rest is history.

Thirty-seven years of first dates, and counting.

Portland Anniversary Date Night

Date night is an exaggeration.

We’re starting with a matinee at the Gerding Theater inside Portland Center Stage at the Armory.

Got to be on time or else get locked out once the play starts.

We’ve been season ticket holders, third row center, for years. It started with my wife and mother in-law, then me.

After the show we’re meeting friends for dinner at Andina, a Piece of Peru in the Pearl.

But first an hour of browsing Powell’s.

It can be easy to get lost in the City of Books’ 68,000 square feet, 10 rooms, three floors and 3,500 sections. In fact, losing yourself in the sprawling store (or one of its more than 1 million books) can be half the fun. But for those who prefer navigating over perusing, Powell’s offers a detailed map to its color-coded rooms. 

Getting Lost In Married Life

If getting lost is your biggest fear, you’d better get a handle on it before you get married.

Why?

Because you’re going to get lost in marriage.

By lost I mean not recognizing who the hell you even are anymore.

You’re the person who takes the garbage out on time? Who washes floors on their hands and knees because you ‘get it cleaner’ that way? Who puts laundry away?

You’re not the person who could care less about the garbage because you can dump trash in any available can or dumpster?

Not the person who checks the shade of white socks on a dirty floor?

Or the one who liked to camp out in a clean laundry piled bed before folding it, putting it away, and making the bed tight enough to bounce a quarter on?

If that was ever you, it won’t be any more.

The special marriage benefit is that over time you won’t recognize the irresponsible slacker who used to stare you down in a mirror.

Instead, you see a reflection transformed by someone who reminds you of everyone you’ve had feelings for.

Do you know who I’m talking about? Your wife.

If you have a wife like mine, you may want to ask her out on a date.

Be sure and give her the ‘First Date’ talk before you leave the house.

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“If this goes well we may have a future together. If not, I’m dropping you off.”

“Dropping me off? Where would that be?”

“At our house. Where were you thinking. Let’s make it a good date.”

“We’ll see a play, buy a book, meet up for dinner. Like that?”

“I think you might work out.”

“Glad to hear it. Have you taken the garbage out? Take your shoes off when you come back inside. Then carry a basket of laundry upstairs.”

“Maybe you want to fold my shorts.”

“I do, but later.”

Married life says what?