What I've learned so far from 6 months of marriage

Those who have been married for seven months or longer should close their browsers right now, as it will spare you a lot of the silent eye rolling that is the natural response to the "wisdom" of the ignorant. This entire blog is attached with the very real disclaimer that I'm an idiot who unfortunately enjoys blogging my thoughts.

But for all my to-be-married friends, I thought I'd compile a list of pragmatic things that would have been helpful for me to know, despite all the great advice we were given. I'm sure this post will also serve as a marker for me to look back in ten years and laugh uproariously.

Anyway, in tribute to our recent six-month anniversary, here are the top things I've learned about marriage so far, from the wife's perspective:

#1. Crying to signal to your husband that you are upset has diminishing marginal returns. I don't know what happened when we got married, but I suddenly became more emotional than when we were dating. Unexpected tears would spring to my eyes and down my face whenever anything upset me, and I felt helpless about it...but I noticed that every time this happened, my credibility as a human was increasingly undermined by about ten percent. M's response began to evolve from one of grave concern, to normal concern, to patient resignation, to a strategic decision to ignore me, and hope that whatever upset me would resolve itself. In response to his response, I have been forced to practice putting my emotions in a kind of holding pattern while I mentally figure out what my problem really is and actually communicate what I think viable solutions might be. To be honest, crying was a lot easier, but I guess the latter way is more helpful long-term.

#2. Small things will suddenly seem a bigger deal than they are. And it is my job to mentally battle them back down to size. Every dissatisfied thought, no matter how innocuous, is magnified by the "and this is for forever" afterthought. I'm talking about small, offhand comments that M makes, that I decide over the course of a day have besmirched my character, and therefore my soul, and therefore his love for me. And meanwhile, this is what M is thinking to himself: "You know what would make this day better? Spicy mustard to go with my sandwich. I love mustard."

#3. Comparing who does more for the other is a pointless game. The division of labor in our household has been a lot more clear since, you know, I quit my job and stay at home and everything, but in general, I was surprised by how easy it is to mentally compare who loves the other person more by what they do for the other person. Before marriage, I, like yourself maybe, thought that we would just co-exist, hippie-like, in a sea of love with all its easy ebb and flow. No. It turns out that I am terrible at being a hippie, and I make mental lists. I have quickly learned, however, that there is no winner of this game, only losers. The one who feels they do more will only have resentment as a prize. It's easier to just trust that M wants me to be happy and vice versa, and if I really need something, to just say it. And the more I do for him, astonishingly, the more he is naturally willing to do for me. Like shaking the spiders out of the paint tarp that I should have put away weeks ago, and left sitting on the patio, even though M hates spiders as much as I do.

#4. Introverts need a lot of space to themselves. And I mean a lot. It's not that I'm not allowed to interact with M, but he is noticeably happier if I don't try to engage him in substantive conversation during the following times: before or during his morning cup of coffee, for the first twenty to forty-five minutes after he comes home from work, immediately before bed, while he's trying to watch anything he's interested in, while he's working on a coding problem and has earphones in, while he's reading, while he's focused on taking care of a task, or when he's about to leave the house to go surf. Other than those times, I have his full attention and can chat away happily.

I've also learned M's favorite new phrase with me: "My queue is full." This means he has five problems he's working on solving, most likely related to software, and I can't give him anything new to take care of, because his memory and stress levels are stretched to capacity. I come from a very "everything requires immediate action" sales-and-recruiting background, so I view this as a learning experience in dealing with engineers.

Our carefree engagement days, before we were hardened veterans of marriage.
(Photo courtesy of Lauren Alisse Photography)

#5. It's ok to enjoy being married. I don't know why, but when M and I were first engaged, only two or so people ever actually uttered the sentence, "You will LOVE being married!" Don't get me wrong, a lot of people were happy for us and expressed a lot of warmth and love toward us. But much of the actual advice about marriage we heard and read was about how much we'd learn and grow from the pain we'd cause each other, from the horrible emotional trauma that would go toward the ripping of the romantic veil in two and really being exposed to someone who saw all our flaws; how we would be refined in the fire of marriage and rise from the ashes through Christ-like (read: superhuman levels of) forgiveness. All during engagement, I braced myself for the horrors of marriage. I prepared myself to wake up one day in a sudden vise-like grip of depression and bewilderment, to question myself and M and all of our individual and collective decisions.

Maybe it's because we aren't exactly the most super romantic supercouple in the world ("It's ok for you guys to touch each other," is something we hear a lot at social gatherings), but so far, there has been no cliff-drop of expectations. I mean, yes, we are learning how to deal with accidentally offending one another, and it's unpleasant. But so far, and I mean every day, I have enjoyed being married. I look forward to the time when M gets home from work and walks through the front door, even though I can't talk to him for another twenty to forty-five minutes. I like how obliging he is in giving me random hugs. I enjoy watching him problem-solve with a beautiful economy of deliberate decisions, and how tolerant he is of my gleeful trial-and-error methodology. He enjoys that I remove all the small annoyances from his life, like oil changes for his car, dinner, laundry, stocking toiletries. We enjoy being in the same room together, either doing our own thing, or me forcing him to watch a documentary on Steve Jobs, and then engaging in a post-documentary discussion on product innovation and patent-based lawsuits (I can't stomach violent movies, so this is the remaining option for entertainment). I like that M saves his tender looks and affectionate gestures for when we are behind closed doors.

I wouldn't say marriage has been easy, but we recognize that we don't have kids, crushing debt, health issues, or other factors contributing to real tests of relationships, and I think we have a deeper appreciation for the strength of other, much longer-married couples. I'm mostly thankful that we have had the first six months for us to get used to each other and for me to learn to buy the right mustard.