The Perfect Relationship

Today I read a post that simply brought tears to my eyes. In it, the author describes his wonderful wife and how their honeymoon is in its seventeeth year. The reason tears clouded my eyes is because I'm a romantic at heart. It sounds strange for me to say that. All the contributors to this blog are workaholics and to us (with the possible exception of CosmicLeap), "ro-mantic" sounds like a type of new fangled cement mixer. Why then, did this post rip something within me apart?


While I was reading it, I was also listening to Ne-yo's new album, In My Own Words. The track "So Sick" began to play. This track is about heartbreak. The lyrics are evocative and heart rending. In it, he sings my life with his words:

Gotta change my answering machine
Now that I'm alone
Cuz right now it says that we
Can't come to the phone
And I know it makes no sense
Cuz you walked out the door
But it's the only way I hear your voice anymore
(it's ridiculous)
It's been months
And for some reason I just
(can't get over us)
And I'm stronger then this
(enough is enough)
No more walkin round
With my head down
I'm so over being blue
Cryin over you

And I'm so sick of love songs
So tired of tears
So done with wishing you were still here
Said I'm so sick of love songs so sad and slow
So why can't I turn off the radio?

Gotta fix that calender I have
That's marked July 15th
Because since there's no more you
There's no more anniversary
I'm so fed up with my thoughts of you
And your memory
And how every song reminds me
Of what used to be

That's the reason I'm so sick of love songs
So tired of tears
So done with wishing you were still here
Said I'm so sick of love songs so sad and slow
So why can't I turn off the radio?

The combination of this romantic track and this romantic post were too much. A wave of recollection suddenly drowned me. Even though I've never experienced a true loving relationship, I had "a memory" of what such a relationship would feel like. I guess we all have that deep throbbing piece of our heart that constantly reminds us that we would love to be loved and love to be in love. We'd love to be close to someone who's presence overpowers us and still makes us feel safe, complete and wanted. To look into another person's eyes and see their unwavering adoration. To kiss them and feel the world around you melt away in bliss. To make love to them and feel the boundaries of the universe collapse as infinity joins the two of you. To wake up next to this person and feel them holding you tight, as though not even death will permit the separtion of the two of you...


Or maybe I'm dreaming. We often discover that meeting our childhood hero is a depressing experience. The car of your dreams is never as good as the plastic Lamborghini Mura that we used to push around the dining room floor. Christopher Reeves really isn't as cool or as strong as superman. He can't even fly! Perhaps it's the same thing with my romanticized idealism. Perhaps, when I finally find that woman who makes me feel complete, I'll discover that love, like a childhood hero, is a dissapointment in real life.


Somehow, I still hold on to my romantic image of love. Tim Ottinger, has given me hope when he talked about Valentine: When the honeymoon is over…. And his wife actually reads his blog. She posted the first comment in an equally romantic fashion. (My girlfriend was least bothered about my writing. In fact she'd call it imature, irresponsible and creatively bankrupt!). Anyway, kudos to Tim and his wife. I wish that one day I will experience what they share:

People are always talking about what a serious business marriage is. I am told that you really have to work at it, and you only get out what you put in, minus a little. There’s all this about how you have to work hard to impress each other with diet and fitness and gifts and tokens of affection, and how you have to spend not only time, but quality time. You have to schedule your time, and make priorities, and all that. It sounds risky and difficult and amazingly self-sacrificing.

Man, that’s pretty scary. I’m glad I never knew that when I met my wife.

See, we’re not really bright when it comes to romance. We just love to hang out together and we like to talk (especially on long rides or after the kids are asleep). We lounge across each other whenever possible, and have been known to be holding hands or hugging or touching pretty much all the time. We actually like each other and are best friends. We enjoy being together and doing things together, and even doing nothing together.

I’m probably the worlds least gifted in “material thoughtfulness”. It never dawns on me to pick up gifts and candies, and I am not good at picking up hints or understanding what other people like. If the honeymoon is ever over and I have to start working at this I will probably wash out. I don’t plan little surprises and trips, and I have to ask my wife for money to buy her stuff, so surprises are out of the question. Hey, she manages it better than I do, and I respect that. We tend to each kind of rely on the other’s strengths.

That’s where I’m really lucky. My wife has a lot of skills and talents. I really respect her abilities and idea. She’s different in intellect — maybe it’s intuition or body language or something — she’s more emotionally aware of other people’s feelings and motivations. She is adventurous and likes to try new things and new places. She’s got a killer memory, whereas mine stinks. She can do math so fast and accurately, it makes my head swim. She’s also good at getting things done. If this honeymoon ends and I have to compete with her, she’ll clean my clock. I don’t know how my emotionally squeamish self-absorbedness will even get to play in the same league.

So I’ll be all upset when the honeymoon is over and all the work and planning and effort kick in. I’ll miss this spontaneous honeymoon kind of living. I’ll need new skills and abilities, but then at least I’ll understand what all this relationship talk from the pros is about and how it is for those other “normal” couples. Man. Things will be different.

Maybe we’ll be able to at least squeeze out another 17 years together before that happens.