Doug Loves Sarah, Week 18 of 52

Her Birthday

The most exciting thing I have ever done for Sarah's Birthday (all four or so I have celebrated with her) is to jump in a freezing pool for no real reason besides the fact that it was sort of fun and kept her entertained. With my nephew. That's it. Did nothing besides jump in the pool. Nothing fun. Had nothing up my sleeve. But it was cold. Very cold. And it DID keep her entertained.

Which brings us to the main point of this week's entry: marriage is boring.

I am not saying that is not worthwhile. I am not saying that it is not fulfilling. I am not saying that you should avoid it.

What I am saying is, compared to the helter skelter world of dating, and flirting, and panic and heartbreak and insanity and passionate first kisses...marriage is boring.

Within two years you will find yourself eating a meal for the thirtieth time across from the same person who have eaten the majority of your meals with. You will watch some show that you have both decided to compromise on. She probably wanted to watch The Dog Whispere, you might have wanted to watch Tank-o-Rama. You settle from Scrubs (which could be much worse). You will late go to bed and talk for a few minutes, snuggle for a few minutes. By this point in time, if sex is "expected" on a regular basis it is probably largely mechanical. If not, then you will probably go every third to fifth night (some couples much less, some more than this). You will have your place in the bed. She will have hers. You will get aggravated if your pillow isn't where you wanted it to be.

And, I swear to whatever God you want me to swear toward, this is just fine with me.

I was having a shit time with the whole dating game. We all do. Most of our relationships either mean nothing or end in tragedy. I enjoy flirting as much as the next guy, but what I really want is someone who knows my ins and outs and can take me a little for granted.

By this time, the clinginess has stopped. This means I can read a book or go on a walk and I am not betraying some sort of sacred trust. We have spent enough days together that we know what will likely happen.

I know what foods she likes. She knows what food I will cook anyhow and expect her to eat.

Though I will never get the chance, again, to explore some new body and find all of its erotic zones, its "no touch" zones, and its tickle zones, I know where hers are and I can avoid upsetting the balance.

Most importantly, she knows that I don't always look my best after a long day, and she accepts that. I know she has bad morning breath. I know that she gets frustrated with her homework. She knows that I will spend hours staring at a computer screen. It is a form of balance.

And I would never trade one second of my boring life with her, not for an instant.