Not the Foghat song, no. It’s a pretty cool song and I like it, but here it is meant in the context of believing that if you manage to get a second do-over, hopefully you’ve learned enough in the previous two attempts to get it right, or at least to have learned what not to do again.
So, Mr. Man and I got hitched a few Sundays ago. Third time for both of us. After two years of dating and then a year of shacking up, once we made the ultimate financial plunge and purchased real estate together, well, it was just time.
Just a quiet evening, sitting on the front porch, drinking beer and listening to the local classic country station when he asks me “What are you thinking about?” In three years, he has never once asked that question. Never. Nor have I. To quote Frank Kaiser; ” A woman over forty will never wake you in the middle of the night to ask, “What are you thinking?” She doesn’t care what you think.” Up until that moment, it was my belief that the same applied to men over 50. Or men period. Certainly it applied to Mr. Man.
I replied that I was thinking maybe we ought to get married. Sure enough, he said that he’d been thinking the same thing too. This coming from a pair of twice divorced folk who agreed during the early dating phase that we disdained marriage as an institution and neither of us had any intentions of doing the legal mambo with another soul ever again. Friends will attest, and boy did they make a point of reminding us of all the times we swore “Never again!”.
To his quiet affirmation that we were on the same page, drawing the same conclusion as we strolled down the parallel evolving paths of our relationship, I simply said “Are you sure?” and to his “Yes. I’m sure. It’s time.” I replied “Okay” and so did he. Not a terribly romantic or impressive story, but certainly a mature one.
Oh, I can hear the groaning disappointment. No thrills! No romantic moonlit boat ride or creative YouTube worthy video to share. Just a couple of old farts making a major life decision over a cold brew in the lingering Sunday twilight of a Memorial day weekend. Sorry. Not really.