He is handsome, buys me flowers for no reason, massages my feet, tells me I look hot almost all the time. Tells me that my children are beautiful, intelligent, with enormous potential. He loves the way I feel. The way I smell and walk and laugh (boisterously).
Jealous?
Yeah, me too. He doesn't quite exist. Not that the love of my life isn't romantic, but if I want the aforementioned things, I have to drop a few hints. A lot of hints. At times I have to pout and demand. Even yell. Our guys and gals do not arrive at our door in perfect condition. We've got to mold them and shape them into the love of our life. Trouble is, they are doing the same thing to us.
I see my parents fight. Regularly. At their age, they can predict how each other will respond. It's when arguing becomes fun. And although they do it for the comedic effect (those two need a crowd), they have a much greater respect for the power of debate. My parents have seen couples who have stored up so much ammunition over the years that they can hurl it at each other with alarming accuracy, destroying the love, and the self-esteem of the individual.
Fighting is part of any relationship -- mother to daughter, sister to sister, boss to direct report. But it seems to be of critical importance in a marriage. Argument shapes us as couples. Do we refrain from the cutting remarks to get to the heart of the matter? Or do we mention his beer belly or that she could use a few hours on a StairMaster? Pepper Schwartz, PhD, in her book Prime: Adventures and Advice on Sex, Love and the Sensual Years, tells us that men and women don't know how to fight fair. There are boundaries, there are "rules," there are important benchmarks to effective fighting. One of them is listening. The other is to walk away when things are too heated. The goal of arguing is to exchange points of view. If I want flowers from him, I should say why, how, when, and where. If he is concerned about expense or time, I need to make it as reasonable as I can.
Billy Graham, the fiery preacher, buried his wife, Ruth, of 63 years. He said: "She's beautiful." Sixty-three years, and I bet they fought. She gave up her missionary work and raised the kids. I’m certain they had their ups and downs, and they were soundly criticized and praised from people all over the world -- always under scrutiny through the media and their work.
And still, she shaped him into the man she could be married to for 63 years.
Flowers everyday? Maybe not. But I am still shaping my love. |
Bernadette Sukley |
| About the author: |
| Bernadette Sukley has written, edited, fact checked for nearly 20 years. Her topics range from health to sports and lifestyle, from human interest to hard news. Her work has appeared in Men’s Health, Sports Illustrated for Women, and ABROAD magazines. Currently polishing up 3 novels for publication, she welcomes discussions on women and literature.
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