Marriage in the Time of Geese and Aeroplanes
Sunday, August 02, 2009 posted by Henri
So I was at a kick ass brunch this morning celebrating the double baptism of my boy Fayedunnaway’s daughter and nephew when his wife, who I usually try to hit on because our boy Puffy is no longer around to hit on her, turns to me to tell me something about MetroDad.
First of all MetroDad is my boy because
a) We’re eerily similar in numerous odd ways.
and
b) Homie gave me a shout out on his blog way back which led to the raging success and fame of my own abandoned blog which led me to the tens and twenties of readers who adore me quarterly.
But then she said something funny…she said divorce. And I said wut?
And all I could think of was that damn conservatory of butterflies where he proposed to Bosslady. One thing I accepted long ago was the mystery and utter wackiness of life. I dated this girl in college for years and one night she came over and said it’s over. Out of the blue. The odd thing was that throughout our relationship we never had a single fight. I said wut? Then sadly moved on, sucker punched. I didn’t put up too much of a fight. I figured it’s hard enough to find the right person to be with in life…the last thing I wanted was to be with someone that needed convincing to stay with me. So good luck and go…quickly.
But marriage is a whole ‘nuther ball of wax. And add kids to the mix…and boy forget about it.
I’m absolutely shocked that I’m still married to my wife. I’m shocked that any marriage can survive kids. I’ll tell you the reason why.
It’s all dumb luck.
What people don’t get is the fact that having a kid, raising a kid, being married with kids, is an experience that cannot be prepared for or logically planned. Before you have your first kid, there is no way in hell you can possible pick the right co-parent. And that’s what marriage with kids is all about…finding your co-parent.
Ok. Say you’ve never flown a plane. All you know about piloting planes is what society and pop culture tells you. Now imaging picking your copilot. There are a few really stupid ways to pick a co-pilot.
“I want a co-pilot that’s hot”
“I want a co-pilot that makes me laugh”
“I want a co-pilot that’s rich”
“I want a co-pilot that likes the same movies that I do.”
“I want a co-pilot that is upwardly mobile”
“I want a co-pilot that drives a Porsche”
“I want a co-pilot that completes me”
Ok. Now you and the co-pilot you’ve picked get to go fight a fucking war.
“Damn I shouldn’t have picked the funny one”
I want a co-pilot that can fly a friggin plane with me.
You really, seriously, can not predict from dating how someone is going to go into war with you. It’s dumb luck. When it goes well people like to pat themselves on the back and say…damn I always knew the right person that I was looking for. When it goes bad, people always say, they didn’t try hard enough to make it work. The hell with that, I say you make the best choice you can with impossibly limited information and cross you fingers and hope for the best. Dating will never prepare you for parenting. And you will never know how a person will co-parent until you’re in a dogfight.
Then again you can have two great co-pilots that fly the plane great but one still punches out because they can’t stand the music on the plane radio that the other person insists on.
I dunno.
And then there’s “the one” argument. We have to divorce because I’m not in love with you anymore. You’re not “the one”.
Screw that.
Many people might think I’m a dick for what I’m about to say but marriage ain’t about love. It’s about commitment. It’s about being so committed that you’ll ignore the fact that you were meant to be with Megan Fox, despite the number of times she calls you, in order to follow through and raise a kid.
And despite all that, there’s this. Sometimes divorce, as nasty as it is, might be the right thing to do for the sake of your kids. If it ain’t going to work, dear god let it not work sooner rather than later. A lifetime of parents who stayed married for “your” sake really isn’t as great as it’s cracked up to be. It can hurt kids just as much, it’s just a slower more drawn out pain.
I believe in fighting like hell for a good co-parent. And fortunately I happen to love my wife like a madman, despite her silly rules like please stop dating Megan Fox. But that’s just gravy. I just need to keep this damn plane in the air. But all I really wanted to say is that this blog, for me, will never reflect the man that I am but rather the man that I had hoped to be. And with this in mind, I know that my boy MetroDad would do whatever he could for the sake of his girl. And I do believe Pierre would do the same. And I’m sorry for the struggle involved in reaching their ultimate understanding but I trust it was as right as rain.
Labels: I was just joking about hitting on your wife Fayedunnaway (kinda), marriage, megan fox, topgun
5 Comments:
just wanted to let you know im still one of your reading fans...
9:35 AM
You're "The One"
1:28 PM
This post is forcing me to delurk, I've read it a number of times already and I'm even thinking of printing it out and putting it in my wallet because it's just that spot on. Thanks.
1:12 PM
Sorry, said I'd delurk and then neglected to leave my name.
1:13 PM
Excellent post. I've been married for 18 years, and you hit the nail on the head.
4:36 PM
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