Scenes From a Marriage - Part One.

It has been on my mind lately to write a bit about my married life, and how it became that way.  Much in the matter of a Tarantino film, I'll start from the middle and work my way in and out.

Part One - The Sex Thing.

OK, so I made some mistakes in my life -- I got married to a woman who turned out to be all about conforming to society and not the least bit interested in men, and my own instincts proved correct, but I ignored them in favor of the ... life.

All along, I suspected that she wasn't fully "into it," but I persevered and thought that, no ... I  must be wrong -- there isn't enough evidence.  It's the Zapruder Film of relationships.  I knew what happened, I just couldn't PROVE it.  Every photo from her college years that I saw had a beer in her hand, surrounded by other students.  Damning, but no proof.

Did she have to be "into it," or was your personal charm and commitment enough to sustain the relationship and prove to her that you were so committed to it that it didn't matter?  We thought so, but ... no --- as it turned out.

There were clues.  I suspected that, when she house-sat for a friend and we spent the early evening together yet still chased me home before midnight, that she wasn't interested.  At the time, I thought, "Oh well - she's just being a responsible house-sitter," whatever that was.  So, there I went - home - with testicles colored various shades of blue because --- well, I don't know exactly.

When we visited her old college roommate and her family in Tennessee, we weren't yet married.  The owners of the home forbid us from sleeping together, and I thought, "Their house - their rules."  That didn't stop me from lying awake in my King bed - alone - wondering what might be going on in the bed that she might be sharing with her friend.  At one point in the night, I crept toward the room and listened at the door.  I didn't hear anything, but still wondered if I was too late. It's an odd feeling, wondering if I was being too suspicious or not suspicious enough.

When we finally had sexual intercourse - further into the relationship than most others - I left panicked that I had somehow instigated the birthing ritual by not - well - pulling out soon enough.  As it turned out, she had been on birth control pills for well over a month.  Who was the only important person she did not tell?  Yeah - me. Might have been an important bit of info to pass along, before I had started planning fatherhood.

Once, while we were dating, we were at the Philadelphia Zoo, and she said, "I have a proposition for you," and proposed a weekend in Cooperstown, New York at a Bed and Breakfast.  She set up a Thanksgiving weekend.  Once we got there, she turned me away, saying "I hate to disrupt your little love-nest."  Whoa.  Didn't you propose this thing?  She made me feel like I was in the wrong for expecting something.  Needless to say, there wasn't a TV or enough alcohol at the B&B to make it worthwhile.

Perhaps it would have worked in my favor to include another woman in our sessions?  What could it have hurt?  Clearly, she wasn't interested in normal intercourse, even though she routinely told me that I was "gentle and polite."  We saw how far that got me.

We were married on October 13 - a hot Saturday in 1990 - you could look it up.  At the end of it all, we were exhausted, both from trying to appease our various relatives and get the fuck out of there.  We had no honeymoon planned, and I remember piling all of our "wedding booty" into her Volkswagen and running off home, collapsing into bed and waking on Sunday morning - married. And every moment thereafter I thought we would wind up divorced.  Perhaps it was pre-determined or perhaps it was ...

Once we were married, it was all scheduled.  Saturday mornings.  Sometimes on Sunday mornings, if the Saturday morning bit was interrupted by some schedule.  In the rare circumstance that the weekend wasn't enough, a Wednesday night might suffice - if we got to bed early enough.  Bed.  That's all. And, the routine was -- well -- routine.  This, followed by that, and this, and that -- all on some sort of schedule.  There was no oddity or interjection.

There was the extremely rare - rare - occasion that she got drunk or watched a provocative video (see above) where the schedule was pre-empted.  She used to refer to it as her "wifely duty."  That thrilled me to no end, since I used to make it a priority to clean-up and become as presentable as possible. As it turns out, it was all for naught.

It wasn't your normal man/woman relationship.  I remember coaxing her to stay up and watch the pay-per-view of Howard Stern's "Underpants and Negligee Party."  We had been married for a few months, and I was (and am) a big fan of Howard, and thought it might be interesting.  Yes, it was.  She sat and took it in.  Mostly, it was various women running around in stages of undress and Howard (being Howard) working them into states of sexual coercion.  All for about ten dollars.

After it was over, we had the best sex of our marriage.  I didn't put it all together until months later, when I realized that the "underpants and negligee's" were the driving force.  Hindsight.

By now, you are reading this thinking, "Dear God," but no. I am writing this to inform you that not every relationship is what you think it is, even if you are in it.  My problem was that I had nothing else, and it was the desperation that led to my acceptance.  I suspected that there were other issues (not that there's anything wrong with that) but chose to ignore them in exchange for the routine sexual experience that turned out to be  - well - routine.

Lesson:  Don't settle.  Yeah, but you knew that.

But, don't.