Emma reflects on what she’s learned in 13 happy years of marriage, and the invention of the three-hour evening for a peaceful relationship.
I CELEBATED my wedding anniversary at the weekend. Well, when I say ‘celebrated,’ my husband and I wished each other happy anniversary, had a cursory chuckle about how ‘Oh, this time 13 years ago we were looking a bit different etc…’ and then kind of got on with the day.
We didn’t exchange gifts (not intentional but the day crept up on us), but a quick Google search told me that the traditional present for reaching this milestone is furs and textiles, supposedly ‘reflecting the protection and warmth derived from a comforting and successful marriage.’
Maybe we should have invested in ‘his’ and ‘hers’ quilts to avoid any night time squabbling?
Anyway, for the 14th anniversary, Google tells me that it’s gold which sounds altogether more promising, something to look forward to for putting in another year! Let’s do this!
If you think about it, with a logical mind, the notion of marriage is a bit bonkers really. Another quick online search (would ChatGBT write this whole article for me I wonder?) tells me that ‘the concept of marriage emerged from the practical needs of societies, evolving from informal pair bonds in hunter-gatherer times to a formal, institutionally recognised system with the rise of agriculture and complex societies around 10,000 years ago.
Key motivations included ensuring offspring survival and establishing rights to property and inheritance.’ Like I said, a bit mad Ted. And yet we still remain committed to the idea. I was properly shook when Late Late Show host Patrick Kielty and his wife Cat Deeley announced they were parting ways. They seemed like such a poster couple. But I am feeling very inspired by Pamela Anderson and Liam Neeson’s blossoming romance and am hopeful it will go all way (if it’s fake news don’t burst my bubble because…I will find you).
Like I said, I’ve 13 years of matrimony clocked up and if you were to ask me what makes a good marriage I’d probably say, don’t ask me! But in a nutshell, I think that honesty is vital (unless your other half is asking if they’ve put on weight), laugh as much as you can, and keep things light (it will forgive a lot). Have a spare room for when your or his snoring is making you fantasise about divorce, and always remember that male and female brains are two very different
things.
Now, I’m the first to admit that I’m no angel to live with: I’m impatient, semi-neurotic, suffer from mild anxiety, and am a shocking front seat passenger. The many things about me that drive my husband mad include the fact that I can’t stack the dish washer properly, I always mess up the clingfilm, and I constantly need to pause not-that-complicated TV shows to make sure I’m on the right track/go to the loo/top up the snacks.
His flaws? He has none. He’s perfect. Just joking, of course. He’s a heavy breather and he eats apples in a very loud, irritating way, but nevertheless we’ll soldier on. There’s gold in them there mountains to look forward to; hopefully in the form of a bangle.
In the meantime, I read a semi-interesting article the other day about how a ‘three-hour evening’ can be a real tonic for relationships that are past the first flush of romance. It originated on TikTok, where else, and here’s how it goes: supposedly, the first hour of the evening is where you’re productive after the kids go to bed: do chores, tidy up, that sort of thing. The middle hour is a phone-free slot, that you dedicate to connecting with each other. Use your imaginations, whatever floats your boat. Maybe if you aim for 30 minutes to start with, if the idea of a full 60 minutes of connection sounds like a lot! And for the final hour, you can do whatever you want, without judgement. It sounds a little bit prescribed to me but I suppose it’s probably cheaper than couples’ therapy. Possibly more painful.
Couples therapy is exactly what actors Benedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Coleman resort to in a new film called The Roses. It’s a retake of the 1989 adaptation of War of the Roses by Danny DeVito, with Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner, and critics are giving the film on an epic divorce battle, the thumbs up. I’ve only seen the trailer but it looks hilarious; he talks about sporadically hating her (c’mon, who hasn’t been there?) and when asked to list what they like about each other, he says the shape of her head is pleasing…from a distance. It gets way more caustic than that. Maybe I’ll plan a date night (hate the phrase) and we’ll go to the cinema and see it to mark the anniversary? Would that be slightly off?
Anyway, the leaves have started to fall and I’m just not ready for it. It feels like it’s been the never-ending summer and while I didn’t manage to get a tan on the back of my legs (why is that so hard?), we’re all feeling upbeat, renewed and facing into the new school year with zest after all that lovely Vitamin D.
Joking, we’re wrecked, and half demented. Sorry teachers for handing over feral, exhausted children to you, who have probably forgotten everything you taught them last year. We’ll make it up to you with your Christmas present. Did I just mention the ‘C’ word?
Oops.
