COLUMN: Marriage advice for the newlywed
Giving advice to newlyweds is like explaining how the electric chair works to a death row convict. No matter how you gloss over the truth, the experience is still going to be really, really painful.
I say this because one of my good buddies was married last weekend and I’m pretty sure he wanted to tap my ark of marital wisdom, he just forgot.
I’ve been married for a little more than six years. I know that doesn’t seem like a long time, especially when old folks are always spouting off about how they’ve been married for 32 years, but hey, in all fairness to my wife the last six years have felt like an eternity.
Since I’m a virtuoso when it comes to being married (can you hear my wife laughing?), I thought I would offer some unsolicited advice to my friend and to other males who are on the verge of tying the knot. Some of this might be painful or nauseating, like drinking Metamucil or working as John Madden’s masseuse, but in the end, it’ll help the future groom be more prepared for tribulation.
Let’s talk about sex first. I realize this is a family paper and I recognize most of the folks reading this article have been raised in Utah (including me). That means an older brother or sister probably explained sex using Legos, Barbie and GI Joe as visual aids. With that said, it’s easy to assimilate the stress and anxiety a soon-to-be-married “dude” might feel. Let me put your fears to bed, I mean to rest.
Enjoy your honeymoon. It will be the only time in your life when your hormones and the hormones of your wife are completely harmonious. You will soon realize it takes men point-two nanoseconds to go from dairy freeze to flame-thrower and it takes women 13.5 light-years to do the same. Alternatively, as my wife so often says, “Andy, romance begins at 8 a.m. not at 10 p.m.”
Along with sex comes the wonderful opportunity to share a bed with your partner. I say this with a smirk, because my wife and I sleep in the same full-sized bed I used in high school. Night in and night out, I get my head clubbed by my wife’s elbows. When she’s not ripping the covers off my body, her face is sniffing my armpit. Hopefully, when I get my master’s degree or get rich, which ever comes first, I’m buying two king-sized beds and duct taping them together. She’ll have to charter a plane to get to my side of the bed.
The next most important aspect of your marriage will be how you adjust to your wife’s cooking, or lack thereof. A small hint: Your wife may be Martha Stewart or she may parody the local fry cooker at McDonald’s, either way, whatever she cooks, you had better eat it all and enjoy every bite. You may bring home the bacon, but she is going to cook it and cook it any damn way she pleases.
On the other hand, she may bring home the bacon and cook it, and you, my lazy male friend, are worthless. If the latter is you, get your butt in gear, get a job or start cooking.
In addition, you need to remember there is no escape from love handles or man breasts. You will get fat. Before long, the pants you donned in high school will start to look like spandex and you’ll undo your belt, button and zipper after you inflate yourself at the dinner table. So, don’t feel sad when people start to rub your newlywed, Buddaesque stomach for luck.
Last, there is the issue of privacy. I tell my wife all the time that just because we’re married does not mean she can waltz into the bathroom whenever I’m using the facilities. I have my pride and it’s scarred badly when my wife sees me in a completely unmacho position on the porcelain throne.
I’m convinced women don’t understand the sacred nature of the bathroom and its significance to men. It is his respite, his reading room and the place where he dreams and meditates. Men, the only way to prevent a female intruder is with a sturdy lock and a cattle prod.
So, that’s it, the only guide a manly man will ever need before he slips a wedding ring on his finger. Good luck and God be with you until we meet again – which could be at next week’s group therapy meeting – “My Wife is My Boss” or “Macho Is Not Spoken Here.”
See you there.