Wednesday, February 6, 2013

My Friends Wife

I have this friend. This friend is definitely not me. It's this other guy who is my age and married with four children, but not me. I'll call him Gergitch. While having lunch together one day Gergitch asked me what bugs me about my wife. I quickly responded that nothing bugs me about my wife. She's an angel and I'm lucky to have her. He laughed, audibly, and said, "Come on. I've met Kathry..." and before he could finish her sweet name I smacked him so hard his sandwich flew out of his mouth. Mind you, it wasn't a close fisted smack. I would never discipline a good friend with a close fisted smack.

At that, Gergitch went on to explain that he has this one issue with his wife that has plagued his marriage since day one. "What is it?" I asked out loud to Gergitch, who is not me. "Laundry" he replied.

Side Note: During the second year of our marriage my wife and I went to Boston with a couple we had become close friends with. While cruising around in our rental car the female half of our friends thought it would be fun to play the game, "What do you guys fight about?" This is how it's played. Someone asks me and my wife what we fight about, and then for the next two days we fight about it while driving around Boston. Needless to say, it's great fun. (It should be noted that those friends have never invited us on another outing that lasted longer than dinner.) I remember the trip well and I remember that we fought for literally two days. But for the life of me I have no idea what we fought about (although I'm sure it was something serious like the growing economic divide between America's rich and poor, or the underlying historical causes of the turmoil in the Middle East, or her mom).

So when Gergitch told me that laundry was the bane of his marriage I literally LOL. I then LMAO. Finally, I lost control, and LMFAO. He told me that piles of laundry build up around the house and about once a fortnight when he can't take it anymore he explodes and it turns into a grudge match that leaves a heavy cloud over the whole house. He said he felt he bore the lions share of total responsibility and was a victim of an unfair division of labor. I explained that that last sentence was redundant and to stop wasting my time with meaningless repetition.

"Do you love her?" I asked.
"Yes," he assured me.
"Let's say, for arguments sake, that you knew in advance that she would never do laundry again. Knowing this ahead of time, would you still want to be married to her?"
"Of course," he assured me again.
"Then stop intentionally damaging your relationship to prove a point over such a trivial issue. You're shooting yourself in the foot to prove your gun is loaded. I'm with you. She should do the laundry willingly and quickly, but she's your wife, and your issue is laundry. Grow up you dumb bastard."

Then I slapped the sandwich out of his mouth again, for good measure.

As my words and the sting of a second smack sunk in I sat back and took a sip of my drink to keep myself from smiling as I secretly reveled in the simple poetry of my wise counsel. I also did Gergitch the courtesy of pointing out that he was wrought with frailty and that his wife was forced to step over his metaphorical piles on a regular basis, but was not the type to point them out. He considered this soberly, and that ended our lunch.

I caught up with Gergitch some days later and he confided that he had gone home after our conversation full of remorse and apologized to his wife for his critical attitude and vowed to mention her piles less and to help with them more. I smiled and congratulated him on his growth, and then we embraced in a very heterosexual way.

So, what do you guys fight about?


Carly said...

Best post yet. Your poor poor friend... Tyler and I don't fight. Obviously. But I can relate to the outing with friends fighting in the car for 2 days... but I'm pretty sure it was the whole first summer we were married, driving around Chicago with 3 other single guys! =)

Christie said...

Seriously, you ought to have a weekend seminar where you invite couples for "marriage counseling," charge them thousands of dollars for the privilege of this exact same conversation with Gerwtch or whatever the hell his name was.

Then sit back, enjoy the literal profits of your labors, and save many marriages. Make sure you serve sandwiches though. And take pictures of the head smacking for the brochure. Wives will sign their husbands up in droves.

Also? Yours is the only blog I have commented on in ages and I've done it twice in a week. Feel very proud.

Lauren in GA said...

You, my friend, are an INCREDIBLE writer. (Like how I already feel that we are friends?) I enjoyed this immensely. (I lurked on your blog, I think it was last week, (?) because I appreciated your banter on Stie's blog after she got IDIOTIC anonymous comments.)

...and I agree with Christie...the head smacking should definitely be included in the brochure...I move that Stie should do the photo shoot for said brochure.

What do my husband and I fight about? Well, we never fight *cough* money. We are really an inspiration to others *cough* money. Never a cross word has passed either of our lips freakin' money. You have inspired me to do my own marriage a service to others...just don't ask me about my fiscal irresponsibility...

Bringhursts said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Bringhursts said...

I'm so honored and you know why. Can anything truly beat Boston?

Now go do something productive like gyrate on a phallic symbol.

Jules said...

I just had no idea such a wise man existed behind all this humor and banter. I wish I'd have been in the cafe when you shame smacked your buddy.

Bringhursts said...

I just read this to Todd and he called you a liar....

Did the cabin mean nothing to you, Ben?

Bringhursts said...

That's true. We did say democrats couldn't sleepover.

skcoe said...

We don't fight much. Honestly.

But we come to blows after double dates and couples trips because HE IS THE GUY asking all these asinine quesitons! He always goes to far...delving into in-laws and intimacy and all other off-limit subjects.

Just becasue he can.

And then he smirks about it and tells me it's not a big deal and that the other guys think it's funny too.

But I assure you, by the wive's stunned expressions after his barrage of questions, and by the men avoiding eye contact with us the next Sunday at church, it is NOT funny.


Babe in Boysland said...

Very sage advice given dear Ben.

And I agree, you are a gifted writer.