Briefly I was flirting with the idea of writing about my third anniversary with my Sham, and how it was sort of perfect for us. See, over the course of the last thousand days or so, we’ve managed to find a unique pattern in which we — and only we — can operate, alternating between fatuous adoration and brutal, heated verbal combat. Back when I was living through my angst-ridden singles stage, by which I mean almost the entire time I was in school, I used to wonder what kind of negotiations took place between people who stayed together for so long.
My sister, for example, was with the same guy for almost nine years before she met my brother-in-law. All the way through high school, all the way through university, and for quite some time thereafter, she and he were together — sort of. It was a weird and tempestuous relationship, and while there were times that they’d be content and chatty with each other, there’d be just as many occasions on which they’d see each other and not speak at all. For weeks at a time, he’d come by our house, check in with my sister, and then come down into the living room at watch The Simpsons or something with me for the rest of the night.
I liked him fine, actually. He and I used to laugh at the same kinds of things, and we’d play Duke Nukem or Total Annihilation against each other when we got up the gumption to network our computers. We kept our knowledge of Monty Python sharp between us. He’d shame me consistently in the kinds of thoughtful or imaginative gifts he’d buy for me or my family on our various birthdays. He wasn’t afraid to yell at my friends or tell them they were being idiots, which was always lots of fun.
Still, he and my sister took their time in a lot of things, and among them was growing apart. Eventually things just didn’t work out for either of them, and things just sort of ended one day. I don’t remember there being an explosion or a whole lot of dramatics, and while I’ve been known to go into denial about such things, I’m pretty certain there wasn’t any ugly fallout. Just here yesterday, gone today, noticing it tomorrow. Negotiations have broken down, and bargaining is permanently suspended.
It never made sense to me. Not at all, and I used to sit and think about it while I was sitting and watching TV with him, wondering why he wasn’t — you know — on the same floor of the house as my sister. It wasn’t especially my business at all, but at the time watching other people going about their lives seemed like a much more attractive proposition than pursuing my own, and it gave me the illusion of learning things. Most of all, though, it used to sit and itch in my brain that there was some other influence at work in their decision-making process, and I couldn’t figure out what it was.
It was the same force that was at work in the hearts and minds of my friends, some of whom would end up with girls whose personalities were so astonishingly abrasive that it would be almost beyond understanding. Some of them were so thoroughly terrible that when isolated, my friends would actually admit that they weren’t especially sure why they were still togther — they just, you know, they were. It was just there, some intertly active feeling that kept them together.
And God, no, I don’t mean “love.” Please. Have you been to this website before?
I’m not even trying to be cynical when I say that, for the simple reason that there are plenty of people in the world who aren’t in love and are still in their relationships. People who’ve been married for longer than they care to remember, and who stay married because they’re sure they had a good reason for spending all that money on a wedding in the first place. People who are ferociously attracted to each other but really, really have nothing to talk about aside from how ferociously attracted they are to each other. People who scream at each other, hit each other, run away from each other, chase each other.
You watch these people and you wonder about them, because you can’t figure out why they do the things they do — because of, in spite of, and to each other. Occasionally you see a couple who seems so hell bent on doing battle that every moment of their lives is spent in anticipation, formulating tactics, scheming, planning on which moves will allow them to prevail. There is such an energy in their machinations that you’re forced to wonder where it could even come from, and why it couldn’t be spent doing something as simple as maybe being happy or something. And yet they are, and they don’t seem like they could really fit too well with anyone else. If they were separated it would be like suddenly robbing Tom and Jerry from each other — sure, they wouldn’t be maimed any more, but where else would they find someone who understood maiming so well?
The thing is, there’s a peculiar internal logic that seems to kick in when people decide that they’re in a relationship, whatever that might be. It’s motivated by emotion, obviously, and informed by it; it allows them to find a reason to shut conventional reasoning out long enough to expose more of themselves than they normally would, whether that might on an emotional or physical basis. Now, I’m not saying that everyone drops into a fugue state every time they exercise even the slightest amount of emotional risk — I would say, though, that there is a whole world of reasoning that opens up upon that initial decision to risk, and everything in it is informed by the events of the relationship until it ends, if it ever does.
And moreover, once initiated, that reasoning is exclusive to the rest of reality, whatever that might be. So, you might know someone who’s hooked up with a big, dumb jock who’s obviously only interested in getting into her pants. You might’ve heard stories of him using the exact same lines he uses on your friend with other women, buying them identical gifts, treating them in familiar ways — and yet, when you mention any or all of these to your friend, you’re met with some surprisingly stubborn resistance. Worse, you might even be greeted with calm recognition, as your friend knows all of these facts already and is content to proceed.
Hey, and best of all, you might get a little backlash. Isn’t that fun?
You: So, how are things with you and your Caveman Boyfriend?
Misguided Pal: Oh, everything’s doing really well. He’s been working late a lot lately, but we’re planning on going to Burkina Faso together in the summer, so it’ll all be worth it.
You: Really? That’ll be lots of fun. How much are you seeing him, anyway?
Misguided Pal: Well, like I said, he’s really really busy down at the Pog Factory. He says that things have been really hectic ever since Pogs started making a big comeback the way they have.
You: Pogs are making a comeback?
Misguided Pal: Yes, Pogs are making a comeback.
You: I… uhhhmm. Right. So. So yeah, so anyway — I don’t know quite how to tell you this…
Misguided Pal: What is it? Are you all right?
You: Well, it’s just that I found out something pretty unfortunate, and I’m not sure how to put it.
Misguided Pal: Oh, you know you can tell me anything. Just go ahead.
You: It’s just that I saw your Caveman Boyfriend out with another girl the other day, and I–
Enraged Pal: How could you lie to me like this? I can’t believe you’d say something so terrible to me!
You: No really, I’m not lying. I was with a big group of people, and they all saw him too.
Hysterically Enraged Pal: This is unbelievable! It could’ve been anyone!
You: I’m pretty sure it was him. The club put his face up on a projection screen with the caption, Happy Birthday, Caveman Boyfriend.
Incredibly Furious Pal: That doesn’t mean he was cheating! He could’ve been out with a friend!
You: It was a sex club. We went there on a dare.
Explosively Angry Pal: That still doesn’t mean he was cheating!
You: He was having sex with her on-stage. The bouncer explained to us that “Happy Birthday” means, “You put on the best sex show of the night.”
Totally Vengeful No-Longer Pal: You’re lying to me! He would never do that! He doesn’t even like having sex in public! You don’t know anything! You don’t understand us! He loves me! You’ve hated him from the very beginning! You’re just jealous because we’re so happy and your relationship sucks! No true friend would ever say that to me! Don’t ever call me again!
You: Sigh.
So it’s sort of odd to come out and talk about Sham and I, our anniversary, and how things were so squooshy and ideal for us. Because the truth of it is that we made plans that kind of fell through, and things were a little bit awkward for part of the evening, and we didn’t really do anything out of the ordinary together — execept go for a walk, which is so rare that it should be listed as a sign of the Rapture. For a lot of people that would be basically anti-climactic, and I’ve been told by more than a few women that they would’ve expected considerably more out of their third anniversary than that.
But to us, or me anyway, things made sense. I bought her three roses and wrote a gushy poem-y card about them; I got her a Winnie the Pooh DVD and a plush turtle named Speedy. She loved them thoroughly and made the turtle kiss me on the cheek, and gave me my gift: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, the latest and greatest RPG you can find.
Absolutely perfect, at least for us.