Real Marriage

Real Marriage                                                                            We met when we were both in strange times of our lives. I was a full-blown alcoholic, living with my mother at the age of forty-five, and she had just spent her first summer alone and finally at peace with herself. I came to work at the nursing home as a floor technician (yes, sweeping, mopping and waxing floors, as well as taking out the trash) and she was the dietary manager, overseeing the kitchen and its staff. Yup, I was quite the catch. Her newfound peace had come about by forcibly encouraging her hubby to leave after finding certain items relating to the manufacture of do-it-yourself pharmaceuticals on the property, the kind you can’t find at the drug store. Her children were all out of the house, college and summer visits, and she managed to spend a quiet summer reading and reflecting upon how much she enjoyed not being the ringleader of a three-ring circus. Then she met me.  

I had lost a good paying manufacturing job due to being extremely intoxicated. It wasn’t my first time being drunk at work, but it was highly undeniable when I fell asleep during the shift safety meeting at the beginning of the day, my head on the table, snoring, and reeking of vodka. Even vodka has a smell if you drink enough of it. Luckily for me, and everyone else who would’ve been working near me as I operated heavy machinery, the safety man noticed (as did everyone else) and promptly tested me and sent me home without employment. As I said, I was quite the catch.  

Laura Gail had already decided that summer that she had some very simple criteria if she were to get involved with anyone in the future. 1) They had to have a job. 2) They couldn’t have an addiction problem. 3) They had to have their own place. Pretty simple, huh? I barely had that first one covered, as the floor tech position earned minimum wage. I was an alcoholic and lived with my mother, so I should’ve flunked the entrance exam to date her. Luckily, I caught her in a weak moment of her life. She was literally recovering from surgery, and had taken time off work to recuperate, when I started contacting her online (Facebook) and wooed her. She foolishly allowed me to bring pizza and beer to her place for a date. I brought a couple of DVDs to watch. Rango (the Johnny Depp cartoon) and Hall Pass, a comedy about a couple of guys played by Owen Wilson and Jason Sudeikis given a week by their wives to do whatever they want. Yup, I’m a romantic guy. I managed to get a goodnight kiss before I left. Still don’t know how she allowed that to happen. Our romance steam rolled from there.  

She was unjustly fired (over the phone) while on medical leave.  I became a supervisor in the housekeeping department. Still not sure which of those were the worse career moves.  She found an even better job later. We had our first date in the summer of 2011 and we married (soon after her recent divorce) in March 2012. The twenty-fifth of March 2012 to be exact. Fourteen years ago. We began with eight grown children (four that were mine, four of hers) and here we are today, with four grandchildren. They own us, heart and soul. I never thought she’d let me stay this long. There’s lots of serious violent felonies and major drug trafficking offenses that don’t serve as long as we’ve been together. I like to think that our love has been stronger than our desire to serve time for justifiable homicide at this stage of our lives, but I suspect she hasn’t killed me in my sleep by now because she wouldn’t be allowed to have Chapstick in county lock-up or have the ability to poop in private. Either way, I’m going to mark it up as a “win” for both of us. It must be love. 

Real marriages takes real work. You live, you fight, you talk, you work, you put up with stuff, you don’t put up with stuff, you joke, you cry, and you pray with that person every single day. And you love each other even after you’ve seen that person on their worst day, and their best day. You still want to wake up next to them. You still want to kiss them right on the lips and touch their butt. Even when they fart in the aisle at Walmart. Even when they can’t remember where their glasses are (on your head). Even when they’re mean to you because you’re breathing wrong (or just “still breathing”). You still love them. Even fourteen years later, because you know they’ll always love you, no matter what.  

You own my heart, LauraGail, and I love you today even more than when I first met you. By the way, have you seen my glasses? 

God bless Y’all.