By EM RUSCIANO
Are you ready for my 5:15pm 3 coffees down high on cold and flu medication truth bomb extravaganza?
Marriage is fucking hard work.
It is hinted at, written about, studied and mumbled but I don’t think enough married people are saying to other married people: “My relationship can be a clusterfuck of disappointment, frustration and finger pointing.”
Which reminds me. Hey, you guys: Sometimes my marriage is a clusterfuck of disappointment, frustration and finger pointing.
(I really love the word clusterfuck. It is powerful, heavy and desperate all at once.)
I’m writing about this today because last week a married lady I know and love whispered this to me over a wine or 6. She said it like it was a defeat, as though she was disappointing the Relationship Gods by daring to utter those words out loud. Deep sighs and great swills of wine followed her admission, my response?
There are thousands upon thousands of relationship experts giving us unsolicited advice on how to spice up our marriages, listen to our partners and generally have a dream union. No one mentions what to do when you’re in an epic stand-off with your other half over whose turn it is to clean up the dog’s spew.
You both declare – so the aforementioned spew sits for days, congealing on the bathroom floor into a circle of stiffened yellow stomach lining.
That is the shit that tests marriages more than anything. At least it is in my house, the battle over whose turn is it to do the crappy menial every day tasks. Add some young kids, and your life becomes about existing not living, you just “get through” days rather than experience them.
This week I’ve been pretty sick, bed-ridden sick. So my contribution to the machine stopped for a couple of days and, my God, the wheels fell off. I resented that, I resented that the dickheads* in my family couldn’t pick up the slack for 2 days. The washing is now at an offensive level, there is no food and the house looks as though we are squatting in it.