Till Death Do Us Part

A guest post, by RM and AR Renouf

RM Renouf:

The old ball and chain, his other half, his better half… In Spanish the word for wife, ‘esposa’, is also the word for handcuff. What, then, is it to be married in the twenty-first century when so many couples either forgo ‘getting the piece of paper’ or end up divorced. Six months ago I got married at the age of twenty-five. My husband is intelligent and articulate but unfortunately he was not house-trained. 

Love is patient, love is kind. The freezer is his nemesis. I get up in the middle of the night for a drink of water and pad to the kitchen. I step in something cold and wet as I open the fridge door. A loud sigh of frustration escapes my lips. A little voice from the bedroom calls, ‘What have I done?’ Bless him. We had had ice cream for dessert and returning the tub to the freezer he left the door open, AGAIN!  We have to throw all the food away and I try to seethe quietly.

Dusting was another unexpected challenge. Keen for our marriage to be a true partnership, my husband offered to help with the housework. Not wanting to discourage or overstretch him, I asked him to dust. I was met with a look which comprised confusion and mild panic. I then watched him out of the corner of my eye as he minced around the flat giving the odd piece of furniture at arm-height a cursory wipe with the duster. ‘What are you doing, dear?’, I asked. ‘Dusting?’, he replied tentatively. Deep breath. Don’t laugh at him and criticise or he will never help again. We have a quick lesson about how and why we dust that I probably received at seven from Brown Owl. He can now add ‘proficient duster’ to his CV. Time well spent.

Love does not envy. My husband has a mistress and her name is Liverpool FC. Few things hold such sway over his emotions and dictate the use of his time. Every week during football season I feign interest in the score and the internet ramblings of the other men besotted with LFC. Eventually I was persuaded to pay homage to my rival at Anfield in the depth of winter. She was less enchanting than he would have had me believe. If I want to be surrounded by chubby drunk men, next time I think I’d rather attend the Weight Watchers’ Christmas party. However, I have accepted that this other woman is here to stay and decided to get along with her as best I can.

Love always perseveres. We do not know what the future has in store but as we enter this new year I am glad to know that I have someone who has promised to stand by me for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health. I would not have the same feeling of security were my husband still my boyfriend. I am lucky to have found someone who loves me in spite of the fact that I steal the duvet, leave half-filled mugs of tea around the flat and have an ‘abominable’ taste in films. Here’s to the future!

AR Renouf:

The revelation that I was getting engaged sparked a range of reactions among friends. All were positive; congratulations and well-wishing, albeit with a hint of surprise that she'd said yes (I like to think they were joking but one can never be too sure). The responses ranged from a knowing smile, as if they had long foreseen an event that I myself had only really started planning a couple of months before, to ill-disguised shock. Some even refused to believe me until I showed them a picture of the ring on my phone… or updated my status on Facebook. Men in particular looked at me with outright suspicion. Did I know something they didn't? Why would I do this to myself when everything had been going so well up to now? I brushed their questions away, naïvely assuring them that I knew exactly what I was getting myself into.

What did I base this logic on, and how has it been borne out by my own experiences? I was lucky that my parents had a happy and stable marriage. I suspect in part this was due to a technique of my father's; to nod in agreement with anything and everything my mother said whilst watching sport or reading the paper, and to hide somewhere when she was on the warpath. I considered this ingenious and have adopted it in my own married life. On the whole it has been largely successful, however, all too often I have been asked why certain tasks have not been done, only to realise that I missed the entire conversation. This is unwise.

I have also absorbed marriage advice from television. Given the amount I watched when I was younger and subsequently at university (and let's be honest, now) it was only natural for me to take life lessons from the shiny box in the corner. One TV marriage that I feel resounds (perhaps worryingly) with my own, is that of Marge and Homer in The Simpsons. I can certainly identify with the well-meaning but lazy husband who often gets things wrong despite doing his best, while my other half fits the role of caring wife who may often have to prod me in the right direction but whom I know always does so in our best interests.

Sometimes Homer’s views of marriage aren’t all that straightforward. On teaching a class on the subject, he declares “For you see, marriage is a lot like an orange. First, you have the skin. Then the sweet, sweet innards. Mmm...” I dwelt on this point for some time, trying to understand a deeper meaning. I like oranges after all; would it follow that I enjoyed marriage? I suspect the point being made here is that marriage often involves hard work. It’s not easy, and problems have to be worked at like anything in life, but the rewards are worth the effort. This is something I can now relate to. Living with my wife has forced me to work harder than I used to, to keep the flat tidy, and to cook (more) regularly. It also means a range of other compromises, from what to watch on television (having superior taste I usually win), to what to have for dinner (here I'm less successful). But having made the effort, the reward of being married to my best friend makes it all seem worthwhile.

Homer’s wisdom doesn’t stop there. In another episode, when feeling that their life has fallen into something of a rut, Marge asks “Homer, is this the way you pictured married life?” He pauses before replying “Yup, pretty much. Except we drove around in a van solving mysteries.” I had no such aspirations, but another good point is made. It’s unlikely that marriage will be everything you expect it to be. I had hoped that perpetual attachment to me might have encouraged my wife to be more enthusiastic about a subject close to my heart; Liverpool FC. This has not proved to be the case, and she still regards me with confusion as my emotional state is so affected by the actions of 11 (extremely talented) footballers hoofing a ball around on a Saturday afternoon. However, I was able to persuade her to attend her first game at Anfield. After a pulsating 1-1 draw, I asked her what she thought. "It's cold," came the reply.

Sometimes Homer’s views on marriage and love are less endearing. On one occasion he remarks, “Marriage is like a coffin and each kid is another nail.” It would be wrong to assume that everything will be peachy. We've had our disagreements, ranging from the trivial to the slightly more trivial. Sometimes there are things I might like to do, or friends I might like to visit; yet I do not, because I have a wife to spend time with instead. But I suspect Homer said this on a bad day; I consider myself very fortunate that there is someone there to talk to when I get home in the evening. And in any case, I'm probably too lazy to have done the things / seen the people anyway.

“Love isn't hopeless. Look, maybe I'm no expert on the subject, but there was one time I got it right.” I don’t claim to know it all. I’ve only been married six months, and I know that every stage is a learning curve. But I know I've made the right decision, and I know that we will keep learning together.