Find a Mentor, be a Mentor
As I mentioned in Part 2, a more experienced couple came alongside us during a difficult time in our marriage. They recognized our struggle, having experienced dark times of their own. Without them, we might not be together now. (And insanely happy, I might add.)
In the last few years, we’ve been able to “pay it forward” by helping several other young couples through difficulties. We don’t spout wisdom or platitudes. We don’t give advice unless it’s welcomed. You might be surprised, though, how often people just want to know they’re not alone.
Reach out. You’re not alone.
Do EVERYTHING Together
I’m totally kidding. Mutual hobbies are fun, as is time snuggling up for a movie, but everyone needs a little time to themselves.
When we were first married, I used to hang out with Hubby’s car-restoration buddies. I migrated from sitting on a greasy office chair in a big garage, to reading in the friend’s house and finally to waving goodbye as he headed off for some guy time.
Don’t get me wrong; we love to be together, but he needs time with the guys and I need time with the girls. We each need time alone without kids.
This weekend, Hubby took the kids to an event by himself because I was invited to a friend’s house. Another weekend, I took the kids to my aunt’s house.
Plan time for what YOU love. You’ll enjoy “together” time even more.
Do the Taxes
Do you remember Full House?
In my favorite episode, toddler Michelle is upset because her best buddy, Uncle Jesse, wants to spend more time with his new wife. When Michelle asks her Uncle Joey why Uncle Jesse and Aunt Becky are unavailable, Joey says the newlyweds are doing their taxes.
Michelle asks, “Will they be doing taxes every night?”
Joey answers, “For the first couple of months…”
Several of the cards we received at our wedding referenced “doing taxes.” I love our friends.
Intimacy—in all its forms—is crucial for marriage survival. This article on ForeverFamilies should be required reading. (Read it.) Physical intimacy—SEX—(oh my gosh she said that) within marriage is important.
And yes, I said within marriage. Sure, the “fun” doesn’t disappear if you don’t have a ring on your finger, but the absolute trust and bonding that should happen is missing. Can you really give yourself completely to someone if they might walk away tomorrow? Great sex makes a healthy, happy marriage healthier, happier and more fulfilling. And it’s fun.
If you’re not regularly “doing taxes”…try it. Trust me.
Guard Your Health
Taking care of ourselves while we have some ability to sway the balance in our favor is paramount. Of course, we don’t have real control over what happens in the end.
My uncle, in his 80’s, told me,
If I’d had any idea I’d live this long, I would have taken better care of myself.
In early marriage, we were in pretty good shape. In 2005, a doctor informed me I have Lupus. I freaked out for a while, took medication as prescribed, wore SPFLatexPaint and stayed out of the sun.
Our jobs required more time. Eating habits suffered. Gym time became obsolete. We both gained weight, a little at a time. The kids came to live with us and suddenly we ate more fast food in a month than we’d eaten in previous whole years. Pounds of candy and chocolate appeared for the children at every holiday, and we helped them eat it.
Then we had a bit of a scare as Hubby was diagnosed with Diabetes. In the last two weeks we’ve done everything we have been “planning to do” for the last several years…eat right, join (and go to) a gym, get better sleep.
We feel better, smile more and feel less stressed.
Don’t wait until you have a reason. Take care of yourself NOW.
Sort of a no-brainer, I know.
We’ve had a couple near-death scares this year. First, our unintentional stunt-driving incident.
The last two years, we’ve remodeled most of the house; taking out walls, repairing bathrooms and completely restoring the kitchen. Most of these tasks were precipitated by leaks. The previous owner—let’s just say he made some…mistakes…while building the house. Like using less-than-stellar pipe connectors. And wiring the house in unexpected ways.
The second near-death scare happened last week. Hubby turned off the appropriate breakers to install new receptacles in the kitchen, bringing us to project completion. I turned away for a moment.
The kitchen exploded in light and noise. I turned back to see Hubby, fingers blackened, holding the receptacle piece and panting.
Also, he was grinning. What a weirdo.
“Did you see that? I almost DIED!” he laughed.
I was not amused. If I ever see the previous owner again, I will kick him where it hurts. The receptacle was wired into another breaker marked for upstairs.
We start getting the diabetes under control, and he gets electrocuted. Super.
So yes, this may seem elementary, but here’s my final piece of advice: if you want to stay married for 15 years, try not to die.
Ok, your turn! Give us the best advice you’ve got.
Our anniversary is February 24.
Wow…45 looooooong years.
Ha, just kidding. 15 years.
Hubby and I are the happiest married couple I know. We have fun together and LIKE each other (there’s an idea) and I can’t imagine being with anyone else.
Okay, I lied. Occasionally I daydream about Wolverine. (Not Hugh Jackman, mind you. Wolverine.) But geez, who wouldn’t? Watch. He’s not wearing a shirt. Tell me I’m crazy.
Disclaimer: if you don’t want to see comeuppance for trying to kill one’s daughter, stop the video at 1:45.
You watched the whole thing, didn’t you. Twice? Shameless hussy.
Since he self-heals, I have a feeling some of that muscled beauty is computer generated. I feel so cheated.
This is about real people.
In addition to being the happiest, we’re also in the running for “Longest Time Hitched to the First Person You Married” award among friends in our age bracket. People sometimes ask us our secret, so I thought I’d share it with you.
- thinking of getting married
- filling out a FarmersOnly.com profile
- recovering from being caught mousing around AshleyMadison (I still can’t believe that’s real)
- a confirmed bachelor(ette)
- a confirmed bachelor(ette) with a Tinder account
this advice will change your life.
Or it will give you yet another reason to say, “Thank God I’m not THAT screwed up.”
Either way, I’m happy to help.
Ways to Stay Married for
40 15 years
Begin with a memorable encounter
Rain forced P.E. classes into the gym; the teachers called, “Run ten laps and then you can sit with your friends!” I still remember the sound of sneakers slapping and squeaking on the gym floor. Thankfully, this memory has no smell. “Sweaty teen” is one of my least favorite odors.
Not “like yesterday” but still very clear: I jogged around the corner closest to the padded grey wall under the basketball hoops. Home stretch; one more side, then I could relax.
I hit the wall. Hard. Not of my own volition. I heard a chuckle as he trotted away.
“That jerk pushed me into the wall. He’s gonna pay.” I sped after him, tomboy that I was, fully intending to pound him. Or at least give him a good punch in the shoulder. He turned, grinning. I reconsidered.
I was thirteen (he thought I was fifteen). He was sixteen. I was in ninth grade; he was in tenth. He was the sweetest, most respectful guy I’d ever met. And he had great biceps (still my favorite). No doubt in my mind: we were going to grow up and get married.
He asked me out. I said yes. We held hands.
Then I told him to go to hell.
Tell him to go to hell
I didn’t just grow up in the buckle of the Bible Belt; I lived on the prong. Everything in my life revolved around Christianity. We attended a very conservative, legalistic church. When the doors were open, we attended. I never felt a connection with anyone my age and often felt “not good enough.”
Sometime during my elementary years, a young lady visited the church wearing jeans and leather—typical 80’s style. An older lady approached her and said, “honey, you need to dress properly for church.” The girl never returned.
I knew this was wrong. By the time I met Hubby, I knew I could never invite him to our church. His family didn’t attend church (strike one) he rocked a mullet (strike two) AND he listened to ROCK MUSIC (you’re out).
None of those are Hubby, but this page could have been from our yearbook.
So then, I went to Bible camp. At camp, we learned that we should only date other Christians because then we’d have similar goals. If I wanted to go to South America as a missionary (and I did) but married a guy who didn’t see the point, things could get sticky. The speaker noted that generally you only marry people you date, so it makes sense to date people you could marry.
I was heartsick, knowing we didn’t see eye to eye. I decided to write him a letter to try to explain. Perhaps, I thought, he might decide to also be a Christian.
Being a socially inept fourteen-year-old did not help my communication. I didn’t realize how my letter came across: “hey, I just found out you’re going to hell.”
I do not recommend this as a relationship tactic.