Couplehood Read Free Page B

Next morning, the clock radio goes off, and the first thing I hear is, “Good morning. In Jerusalem last night, a bomb went off …” and I think, “I can’t close my eyes for a minute!”
    And I don’t understand politics. Like when warring nations call a cease-fire for the holidays. How do they do that? They agree about nothing, but they can still pull it together to go, “Look, we may have our differences, but
nobody
wants to work Christmas.”
    Why can’t they find another reason to hold off one more day?
    “Look, the 25th is Christmas and the 26th, I gotta return gifts, I’ll be at the stores, the lines—it’ll take forever, so the 26th is no good for us.”
    And then, just keep it going. “The 27th … umm, let’s see … you know, I’d love to resume the hostilities and slaughter your village, but I just noticed—I have the phone guy coming the 27th.”
    And if you keep your schedule busy enough, things get done
and
you’re saving lives right and left.
    A s a couple, there’s something special about reading the paper together. First of all, for some reason, whatever section the other person is reading looks more interesting than the one
you’re
reading. Even if you’ve already read it, you want to see it again.
    “I didn’t realize how good that Travel section looked till I saw
you
thumbing through it like that. What is that picture there—Portugal?”
    I love the fact that we go through the Real Estatesection every Sunday and look at pictures of places we have no intention or possibility of buying, but still we check for price fluctuations.
    “Oh, look at this—that lakefront estate in Danbury just went down to
five
bazillion, as opposed to the unreasonable six-two they were asking last month. They’re obviously weakening.”
    S ome things in the paper are better
not
to share. But you don’t know which ones they are until it’s too late.
    I’m reading an article about this woman in Houston who was fired, seemingly unfairly, from a very good job. I’m reading, and quietly, to myself, I go, “Hmm … tsk … geez.”
    The Woman I Love says, “What’s that?”
    “Hm? Oh nothing, just this article. This woman, in Houston, she had a great job, and they let her go because they discovered that years earlier she had been a prostitute.… Just kind of sad.”
    She says, “Hmm … tsk … geez.”
    A minute and a half later she puts down the Travel section and says, like it’s my fault, “What
is
it with prostitutes?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, the whole thing with prostitutes and men—I just don’t get it.”
    See, when you’re a couple, each person represents their gender. You’re the flag bearer for the whole team. And if any member of your team, anywhere in the world, past or present, does something to offend,
you
have to answer for it.
    “No, it has nothing to do with prostitutes, Honey, I’m just saying, it’s kind of sad … You know, here’s a woman, got her life together and everything … and then … hey, what’s that picture there, Portugal?” Then you read the Travel section together and try to get off the Houston thing.
    But there are aftershocks.
    Hours later, we’re eating, my loved one turns on me.
    “Are you chewing loudly?”
    “No.”
    “Well, you’re bugging me.”
    And I’ll think, Let me see, we’re chewing, we’re eating, chicken, barbecue sauce, Texas—“The prostitute lady? That’s what you’re upset about?”
    She says, “I just don’t
get
it.”
    E ven if you’re both lounging around, enjoying doing
nothing
, in a heartbeat, it can all go bad.
    “I’m bored. Let’s do something.”
    “Like what?”
    “I don’t care. Anything. I just can’t believe we’re sittingin our pajamas. Oh, no—we’ve become one of those couples that never
does
anything. When did this happen? When did we become this dull?”
    And my answer is, “I’ll tell you when—somewhere in the middle of that article you’re reading.