It might be said that I paint a rosy picture of my 43 years of marriage to Studly Doright. He’s funny. I’m funny. We’re comfortable financially. We enjoy doing things together, but we also give each other enough space to pursue our separate interests. We’ve raised two incredible kids and have five awesome grandchildren. A perfect couple, right?
Not so fast. Studly and I aren’t even close to ideal. We have had some spectacular fights over the course of four decades. I’ve threatened to leave. He’s stomped out. We’ve wrung our hands and cried copious amounts of tears well into the night. I suspect that most couples who’ve spent as much time together as Studly and I have might tell a similar tale.
What do we fight about, one might ask. Stupid stuff, mainly. I’ve hurt his pride, he’s hurt my feelings. Maybe one or both of us have been so stressed out by work or family issues outside of our cozy twosome that we’ve lashed out at each other rather than at the person or situation that’s caused the problem in the first place.
To compound the situation, neither of us is subtle and we both use biting wit while in the heat of battle. I will say I’m quicker to anger while Studly lets things smolder before hitting me with both (figurative) barrels. I’m also quicker to forgive, usually.
On the plus side, our disagreements have evolved over the years, and in some ways are more productive. They occur so infrequently that sometimes I almost believe the rosy picture I’ve painted. Almost.
At any rate, I wouldn’t know what to do without him. He’s my guy.
I couldn’t very well use the title without including the song, right?
Peace and love, people