Being Married Sucks
Today is my 6th wedding anniversary and I gotta tell you, marriage blows.
What it essentially is is getting to know someone so well that you could successfully win a court case proving why they are the worst person imaginable.
Like my husband, for example…
He doesn’t side-seat drive, exactly. No, he does something much more insidious and cunning. He waits until I’ve MADE the driving mistake, and then proceeds to calmly discuss what I did wrong, and how I could have done it differently.
I mean… really?! How did I manage to select such a human?
Also, for him, “not a good time to talk about it” does not exist. I could be bending over to pick up dog shit and he’ll go, “hey have your clients all paid this month and what day will that money be in our account and how much?” I shit you not.
(Pun retroactively intended)
I don’t know how many times I’ve said, “I don’t know I have to look on my computer.”
Like… that phrase lives on my lips, I should tattoo it on my face so I can save my breath and just give him a Jim-from-the-office-looking-at-the-camera glare.
Also… he’s a corrector. In every sense of the word.
I think phrases like: “ACTUALLY…” and “It’s not even that, it’s ______” and “Do you mean _______?” live on HIS lips.
Too many for a face tattoo.
But then there’s all of my shit that HE has to deal with.
I am messy af. I am the clutter Queen.
If you ask me how I’d like it to be, I will spin you tales of my deep, longing desire to have a house neat as a pin. Or to keep up with the “daily cleaning of my desk before I’m able to leave my office at the end of the day ritual” for longer than 9 days (PERSONAL BEST 🏆) but the truth is, I just don’t care.
Like… I don’t like the way it looks, and I DO love a clean surface, but it seems that I’ve been bioengineered to be incapable of keeping things tidy.
And do not send me that Marie Kondo book, apparently clutter brings me joy on some level.
But my poor husband hates it. Not only that, he has this regular struggle with trying to address it with me. (It’s never not the time, remember?)
He’ll be like, “hey bae…” (side note: I know you hate that phrase. We actually started using it ironically when it came into fashion online, and it stuck. I feel like it’s our modern day mythological curse, we’re doomed to call each other that for all eternity because we angered the Gods at some point. Ok back to this post…)
He’ll be like, “Hey bae…”
From the other room, my sense of foreboding will flare up.
“This dish on the counter… are you still using it?”
“What dish?” (I’m in the other room)
“This dish… with the stuff on it, over here with the…” (he continues on, saying nothing usefully descriptive)
I grumble and rise from whatever comfortable seat I’m in to walk into the kitchen and confirm that, no, I’m not still using that dish. Only there was no room in the sink and I was in a rush to start my next client call earlier.
He will then give me a guided tour of our dishwasher, whilst reciting his essay, “The Benefits of Putting Each Dish in at the Moment of Dirtying.”
It’s good, I’ve been meaning to encourage him to do a Ted talk on it.
Plus, I did not grow up with a dishwasher and cannot for the life of me learn this habit, so I’m a captive audience each time, even though I know it by heart.
I still roll my eyes though, can’t let him get too comfortable.
Oh! I just remembered another thing that really sucks about me. I’m a pretty horrible listener. I could blame this on ADHD (and I will in a moment, because I also suck at taking full responsibility) but at a basic level, I don’t tend to care much about the things he wants to tell me. They usually range around politics, and five hour historical documentaries.
He’s kinda funny with this one, too, because he KNOWS I don’t care, but he still tries to tell me.
It’s like an extreme sport for him, where my cruelty and disdain are the opposing team and/or obstacle.
I’m the tsunami wave and he’s in the mood to ride 🏄
I’m horrible, though. Sometimes my inner monologue sounds like this:
“Oh God, you stopped listening. Quick, make your face look interested. WAIT NOT TOO MUCH! Settled down, don’t startle him or he might do that thing where he stops talking because he can tell that you- oh, great, there he goes! Way to go, face!”
The thing is, I have a hard time concentrating on one thing at a time. Even on my coaching calls with clients I have to doodle or play with silly putty or I can’t hear what they’re saying. Seriously, if you raked through the clutter on my desk you’d find a number of devices I use for this.
Maybe I should institute a new rule that I need my silly putty before he starts telling me about documentaries.
Eh, I probably still won’t care. Also, see? Told you I’d blame ADHD.
Hey, how many years of marriage before we stop trying to change anything about who we are and just settle into a depressed resignation about the hand we’ve been dealt? It feels like 7. Like, we feel pretty close but not quite there, so I’ll check in on that next year.
Let’s see, what else would he bring up in a court case to prove I suck?
Oh! I can’t express what I need or want in a direct way. It almost always has to be passive.
I have to be like, “are you cold?” in a cutesy faux-sweet voice.
[insert his Jim from the office face here]
In actuality, I’m thinking “YOU TURNED DOWN THE HEAT I KNOW YOU DID FUCKER YOU BETTER GET ME YOUR HOODIE NO NOT MY OWN HOODIE I WANT YOUR HOODIE AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE IT AGAIN BUT ALSO HIT THE THERMOSTAT WHILE YOURE UP BECAUSE YOU LOOK COLD.”
But here’s why I stay married:
- Dating is INSANE right now, I’m really scared of it. Sometimes I tell my single clients that I don’t envy their plight. Probably not the best thing to hear from your life coach, but I keep it real.
- My husband is funny af, and when I’m around him, I’M funnier. When we started dating, I stopped taking improv classes because my day to day life became an improv class. He will always make me laugh, I’m convinced.
- We walked around a Marshall’s last night (12/23) and we laughed and chatted and made fun of each other loudly the entire time and I’m pretty sure we were the only happy humans in the place, let alone the only happy married couple.
- He’s just as annoying as me, I’m just as annoying as him, and we cancel each other out in the court case.
- He’s damn adorable and I suspect he’s only going to get better with age. So far that’s the case, and I’m actually looking forward to getting old with him. We’re gonna make hilarious grandparents one day.
- He’s okay with the fact that I love Harry Potter more than him.
- We made the most incredible child together, and I want more of them.
I did 7 because it’s the most powerfully magical number. 6 years, 6 reasons… and one for good luck.
Not that we need luck, because marriage is hard fucking work and luck has nothing to do with it, whatsoever.
Hug someone you love and hate today.
And I’ll leave you with this really annoying thing (me doing this right now is one of my unmentioned flaws, I love pointing out uncomfortable things that no one asked for, and actually so does my husband!)
So here it is: just remember that every annoying thing your significant other does… you do it too. You can’t spot it if you don’t got it.
And if you immediately found a way to disagree with me on that, well you just proved me right.
May your defensiveness guide you toward learning everything you never wanted to know about yourself. Because, THAT, my friends, is the real reason marriage sucks. It’s the clearest and most unforgiving mirror you will EVER gaze into.
So take a good hard look.
Happy Holidays ☺️