The secret of a happy marriage remains a secret.
She Said: We made this video a month ago as this was all happening and then decided not to share it until we had processed what was going on and had a better handle on the situation.
Instead we made this video. The girly-girl in me would like you to know that’s why I’m wearing the same shirt two videos in a row — the videos were recorded on the same day.
As you can imagine, it’s pretty awkward to make a video about your marriage when it ain’t going so well. However, our decision to separate felt like a positive step. Instead of living in turmoil, we were finally addressing what was going on and yet we didn’t feel uncomfortable sharing that with you guys … yet. Needing some space and perspective isn’t something to be embarrassed about. Doing nothing about problems in your marriage isn’t going to help anybody.
So we took a breather, regained our perspective and are about to start therapy.
Marriage is a great institution, but I’m not ready for an institution.
He Said: Some people dream of temporary escape likes dinosaurs dream about waking up from a really bad dream. They watch a little TV, a little Travel Channel, and they figure that they would be happy if they could just get themselves on to the sparkling beaches of this far-flung island, or that one. Some people take a couple hard swigs on an airplane bottle of Anthony Bourdain, and they think that their happiness is waiting for them, across the ocean, in a remote village where goats are pretty important.
Some get to thinking: “If I could just manage to get to Paris in the springtime, just once in my life, to drink that local wine, to stroll the Champs Elysees at twilight, to simply breathe true life again for a couple of weeks … (sigh) … I just KNOW I could find myself once more.”
But, for as long as I can remember, probably since ’bout three hours after we said our “I dos,” my wife Monica has had a different vacation in mind. She’s been jonesing, for all of our years together so far, to take a big jet plane deep into her own head. The poor girl, she’s been asking me to go out of the house or the apartment for a while, to let her breath/give her “some space” at least once every couple months since the day we met.
Sadly for her though, I pretty much ignore everyone and everything anyone says. So, I missed the signals; the proverbial airfare tickets with my name on them sitting on the coffeemaker every damn morning? I just moved them aside without a glance, so I could get to the sugar.
But then, a month or so ago, I caught the whiff of something burning and I happened to notice smoke streaming out of my wife’s ear holes and nose, and so I finally took the plunge and left. I didn’t want to either. It made me terribly sad. But, listen … people want a private beach sometimes, huh? They want to wake up in a wildly different land, where the morning sun streaks in to some strange-ass room and everything old is new again.
So I went. And I think it did some good.
But now I’m back, and there is work to be done, yo.
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