12 Years

Yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day. To most of wherever, that’s an excuse to go out, drink and be stupid. Well, I don’t need a special day to be stupid, I choose any old day. But, leave I not digress. 

It wasn’t St. Paddy’s Day to me and it hasn’t been for 12 years now. You see, March 17^th is my wedding anniversary and that gets my first immediate thought when the day is mentioned. So, what did we do yesterday to celebrate? Well, we had a couch delivered. That’s exciting because we finally completed furnishing the den, which had gone mostly untouched since our son moved out over two years ago.

It probably would still look like Beirut, but last December, on my 40^th birthday, I decided to stop being a lazy schmuck and start being handier. Having said that, Jodi did all the painting and plastering. I fixed the ceiling fan, hooked up the video equipment and repaired the closet doors. Hey, it’s a big deal to a guy who used to fix things by signing a (rubber) check.

Anyway, we then spent a few hours at a wake, saying goodbye to the 40 year old husband of a friend. That sucked, but it was good to see the friend again and I suddenly realized I missed her. She was always such a nice person. You know the kind who hugs you when they see you and touches your arm when they talk to you? She’s that kind. Maybe this will get our asses in gear and make time for her. It’s a shame it took her husband’s passing to give us that impetus.

Not much else after that, we just watched TV together. But today, my mind focused on the fact that I’ve been married 12 years. It doesn’t feel that long, yet is conversely feels like I’ve known Jodi forever. I can’t imagine my life without her. I think about our friend and how bravely she was talking to everyone at the wake, just inches from her husband’s body. I’d be a wreck. Well, maybe I’d have some autopilot going, but she is such a huge part of my life. Hell, she’s pretty much all of it. After 12 years, you don’t see a lot of giddy romance and puppy love (okay, I confess, I settled in to “old married guy” mode pretty fast once we married), and sometimes I take her for granted. I just assume she knows how I feel about her.

Yeah. That’s not a good habit to get into. See you have to balance your everyday selfishness and dickery with gestures of love. Nothing crazy, no regular flower deliveries, Coach bags, or jewelry. Just simple stuff. Leave a note, call just to say “I love you” (like Stevie Wonder preaches), give her a hug for no other reason than wanting to have her in your arms. I don’t do enough of that. In fact, it happens so seldom, she feels like I did something bad when I do get around to being a loving husband. That sucks. She has enough reason to feel like men are scum (check out the headlines or any movie on Lifetime), she doesn’t need me to supplement that by being inattentive.

This post is actually a way of telling her what she means to me. Okay, not a “way of telling her,” I AM telling her, obviously, since she’s the only person reading my ravings. She is the world to me, the reason I wake up in the morning, and who I think about during the day. She is my anchor to real life, my partner in crime and my best audience. You haven’t told a funny joke until you've made Jodi laugh until she pukes. I’m the only one who can do that.

I love you, Jodi. These past 13½ years have been a real adventure. Like a roller coaster, we’ve dipped and we’ve achieved heights. The ride has been rough at times, but there’s nobody in the world I’d rather travel with. Thank you for everything you do for me and I hope you continue to tolerate my bullshit until I pass my freshness date.

Here’s to us.

Oxox