Pom Poms and Microscopes

There are many things I love about my wife. I love her personality. I love her face. I love her mind. Frankly, there's a lot to love.

And I especially love that she's my biggest cheerleader. 

I don't mean that in the self-centered way you might be taking it. (It's not like I need someone watching my life and constantly telling me I'm doing a good job ... he said, hoping someone likes this blog post.) I mean it in the sense that she's always there for me, which is incredibly comforting. When I fail -- when I come home with my tail between my legs after a basketball game or after a day of work when I just didn't perform well -- she's there with a huge smile on her face and open arms. 

And really, it's a two-way street. I can't think of many things my wife does the wrong way. She's very smart, very pretty, and a very good cook -- at times. She looks great in those silly skinny jeans everyone wears and reads an iPad like no one's business. I support her in everything that she does. Sounds like we belong on a wholesome, 50s sitcom, doesn't it? Like cheesy messenger bag guy and blondie up there, right?  

Here's the thing, though. I think one of the secrets to a happy -- and long-lasting -- relationship is knowing when to put away the pom poms and bring out the microscope. 

Have salad dressing all over your face? Your partner should point it out. Are you being a jerk to your buddy? Your partner should tell you. Should you completely overhaul the presentation for work because it's boring and tedious? Yep, you guessed it. It's your partner's job to let you know.

Now, this is a delicate balance. There are times when you need to bite your tongue and times when you need to just shut up. (I've learned both these things already.) But this balance, I think, is an important step in creating a happy marriage full of trust and love.

So the next time you're sharing an opinion about your beloved one, stop and think for a second: Should I go with the pom poms or the microscope?

What Bridget Does When Mike Plays Kickball

Summers are generally fairly busy for us. It is the magical time in New England when the weather is bearable, there is daylight until 8pm, and Bostonians pretend to like each other. It makes up for those 15 months of miserable winter. 

Mike likes to spend a lot of this free time engaged in some type of athletic pursuit. Tonight, he is playing kickball (turns out I use the term “athletic” loosely). So on most Thursday nights this summer it is just me and Oscar, kicking back, shooting the breeze. I’m heating up a nice frozen meal. Oscar is playing with his rope. Life is good. And while we both miss Mike immensely, Oscar and I tend to look forward to these nights alone. 

Ok, I can’t speak for Oscar. He’s actually probably miserable right now. But I do know that for me, Thursday nights are a little slice of heaven. Why, you ask? Because it is the one night of the week that I get to watch terrible TV with reckless abandon. 

You see, Mike has no tolerance for reality TV of any sort. He is physically incapable of sitting through an episode of Real Housewives. But not only that, he is also physically incapable of being in the same apartment with me when I watch Real Housewives. 

Because Mike just doesn’t understand why I would waste hours of my precious day losing brain cells. He just can’t help himself from asking things like, “Sweetie, why do you watch this crap?” Or, “Princess, what could you possibly enjoy about these terrible women and their awful lives?” Or he simply looks at me with that look in his eye. The one that says, “I have very seriously misjudged this woman’s intelligence.” He tries to understand. He really does. But it takes a special type of person to really appreciate terrible TV. You could say I am extra special. 

So you can understand why for me to really enjoy bad TV, I have to be alone. It’s like binging. On these precious Thursday nights at home by myself I get to catch up with all my friends. My girl Bethenny, the crazy ladies from RHONY, the even crazier ladies of RHOC, and Kim and Kroy and Kim’s meth-head mom making sure they aren’t Tardy for the Wedding (seriously, worst show title ever). Don’t even get me started on those Kardashians. I could watch them for days. There is something about Kim’s plastic face that just fascinates me.

Basically, if it is on Bravo or E!, I’ll indulge in it. Pregnant in Heels? Check. Interior Therapy with Jeff Lewis? I’m on it. Miss Advised? Don’t mind if I do. Mrs. Eastwood & Company? Well, no. I have to draw the line somewhere. That show is unwatchable. 

Bad TV is my guilty pleasure. And I prefer to indulge in this pleasure in the company of my accepting pooch, Oscar. So this Thursday night I’m looking forward to hitting the couch, turning off my brain, and indulging in a freeze pop or twenty. 

Just don’t tell Mike. He things I’m listening to NPR and reading Book Four of Robert A. Caro’s The Years of Lyndon Johnson while solving a sudoku puzzle and doing pushups.   

2 Years Down

Today is the 2 year anniversary of our first date. We remember so vividly because it was game 7 of the 2010 NBA finals (Celts lost. Boo.). Since this is the last year we’ll be celebrating this particular anniversary (3/31/12 will become the obligatory anniversary date from now on and I can’t remember more than one date. It's like a mental block.), I thought it was appropriate to sit down and look back on the past 2 glorious years of coupledom. 

I should point out that Mike hates the idea of celebrating anniversaries because he thinks it is forced and arbitrary. He dislikes milestone birthdays for the same reason. I’m from another school of thought. I appreciate these markers in time, however arbitrary they may be, because they provide an opportunity for reflection. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mike!

The last 2 years have been busy. We started dating, discovered we could stand each other, moved in together, got engaged, planned a wedding, and got married. Mike also changed jobs (twice!), became a pet owner, joined two new gyms, and discovered a love of Cambridge and hipster shoes (“They are just so comfortable,” he says in his defense). I started dabbling in grad classes, did a lot of traveling, and got bangs. 

Along the way, we’ve had some really great moments. Enjoying the best risotto of our lives in Boothbay harbor, eating seafood on the water in Newport, wine tastings in Sonoma, drinking pints of Guinness in Galway, and champagne in the middle of the street in Paris. 

But perhaps more memorable are the regular, day-to-day moments of our lives. Taking Oscar to Fresh Pond. Walking to Harvard Square to grab a drink or sit in Harvard Yard to read. Lying on our couch on a Sunday afternoon napping to the dulcet tones of golf. All the dinners at home, and the quick phone calls to check in, and the goodbye kisses before work. And the heated discussions and crossed-armed arguments (let’s be real, it ain’t all roses all the time). 

These years have passed quickly, and I’m told the pace will only pick up once we procreate and I become a soccer mom. But right now, this life we have is pretty great, and I hope we can enjoy being married and selfish for a little while longer.  

Last night we celebrated by going to one of our favorite restaurants and doing what we like best... sitting at the bar, having a beer, eating delicious breadsticks, and splitting a potato pizza. Oh, and talking. Mike commentating about golf, mostly, but also just chatting about our day and our lives and our future. I wish I could take last night and shove it in a time capsule and bury it in our backyard under the oak tree. But since I can’t do that, I hope that I can at least remember that feeling. The feeling of being newly-married, content, and full of potato pizza. 

Five Reasons Why Being Married Is Different

I was golfing the other day with my good friend, Walter, and he asked me if it felt different. "What? Being married?"

"Yeah," he said. "Or is it just basically the same thing?"

I thought about it for a while. Then I missed my putt by a good four feet. Then I answered: "Dude, it is completely different."

I honestly wasn't sure if it would be. There are obviously two schools of thought here. Some people say it's the exact same thing -- you go back to eating the same meals, going out with the same people, and emptying the same dishwasher. Others, on the other hand, think it's a whole new world. After 2.5 months of matrimony, I've decided that I attend the latter school. And here are five reasons why:

1. The ring. I don't wear rings. I mean, I did when I was 15 and trying to look cool, but those days are long gone. The positive here is that I have something to play with when I get bored. Spinning, tapping, tossing -- it's like a new toy. The negative? Having a ring gives me another thing to remember. It used to be phone, wallet, keys, watch. Now it's phone, wallet, keys, watch, ring. This may seem small, but my responsibility just increased by 20%. Don't tell Bridget, but I've found my ring at the bottom of my gym bag more than once.

2. You feel older. You just do. When you hear about "getting married" when you're young, you think those people are old. They are. And now I am. (I actually like being old, so I'm fine with this.)

3. You have a deeper connection. It's not just about the institution of marriage. To me, it's about the experience of sharing your vows and your intentions in front of close friends and family. Think about it: How often do you cry in front of 50, 100, or 200 people? (Watching Rudy sack the Georgia Teach quarterback in a movie theater is obviously the exception here.) A public display of affection and love instantly makes you closer to your partner.

4. The money thing. Bridget covered this on our blog last week. I may retort with my own account (get it?) at some point. Suffice it to say that figuring out a joint account, going on the same health insurance/car insurance, and taxes are significant changes.

5. You're generally happier. Whenever you have a bad day or get in an argument or the dog poops on the floor, it's just not as bad. You always have support, which gives you more confidence and more joy. It's good stuff.

And those are just five reasons. I believe there are hundreds. Feel free to chime in, if you have any of your own.