Our marriage rolled by the 15-year mark last week, eliciting some interest from friends slightly newer to the marital arts. “What is it like having been married for so long?,” came the excited query. Which seemed a bit like asking a fish the flavor of the water in which he’s swimming– my marriage is an enjoyment, a constant part of my perception for so long that it’s hardly noticeable on most days. And while it is not easy, and we have weathered some real hardship, our relationship is always a blessing. I’ve enjoyed it from the start, and find it to be easier and more fulfilling as the years go by.
Still, the question stuck with me, waiting in quiet insistence of a better answer. Which finally came when we stole away for a quiet lunch, sans child. Looking over the menu of the highly regarded local restaurant for several minutes, I asked my bride what she might order. She ticked off her choices from the 3-course prix fixe menu, and I smiled. “That’s exactly what I was going to order,” I said, and we laughed. Following our unspoken routine, I invited her to try to talk me into her second choices, so that we could share our plates. When she did, I shook my head and told her that we had picked the same second choices, as well.
Slightly chagrined at our lack of imagination, I confessed our fifteen year mind-meld to the waiter, and we resigned ourselves to eating exactly the same food. He graciously accommodated us, saluting our longevity and serving us one of the best and most sublime meals of our lives. It was a comfortable celebration, in every sense of the word. Sure, we’re blurring the line between unity and uniformity, and we apparently possess but one brain between the two of us, but there’s something to be said for losing yourself in your beloved.