The phenomena marriage signifies the union between two souls. It’s the spiritual, emotional, carnal and intellectual journey taken by two people on this road trip we call life. Numerous rationale, ideologies and notions have been put forward by many writers and philosophers to deliberate on this complex yet intriguing relationship that makes up pretty much the better part of our lifetime in this world. It defines our lives and the lives of generations to come. Reproduction might be the byproduct of this chemical reaction but the elements are love and understanding. Therefore, one might safely assume that the two souls in question have the intelligence to presume that well we can’t afford to mess up this one.
Or can we?
Today I speak on behalf of all my girl friends suffering from this perplexing dilemma and pondering on the million dollar question: where did the spark go?
Initially we (at least most of us) jump into this sociological alliance with gusto; the final end to the secret romantic rendezvous: the eye stealing glances and time restricted engagements that leave so much to be desired and explored. But well maybe that in itself becomes the post 3-6 month marriage problem: a catch 22 situation. The freedom now of this time and its endless amount at our disposal reduces the romantic fervor considerably. And we are hit with the first shocking jolt that all is not the whimsical fantasy we imagined. Where is the heart pumping, adrenaline running, nervous giddiness that we associate when within proximity of this person? Ok fine some of us might not expect all this oo la la but hey even the romantically challenged were expecting SOME dreamy magic that would sustain more than a mere 6 months.
In a nut shell we start taking each other for granted. Or rather they (men) start taking us (women) for granted. Or so we believe. We grumble and moan, whine and complain ‘Oh! He doesn’t listen to me anymore!’ ‘He doesn’t even notice what im wearing!’ and the classic ‘We have become two different people…‘.Cricket/soccer/hockey/camel race hell anything is more important than us. His friends are more important than me! It’s a question of relative importance and boy do we feel we are the bottom of this ever encompassing heap of ‘other interests’. I go to the extent at times of actually analyzing how deferentially im treated by scrutinizing my hubby’s conversations with his ‘buddies’ and trying to pick up useful incriminating evidence that I can use against him later.’ Oh I thought you were too tired to talk but you were energizer bunny over there on the phone with your buddy’ I say accusingly to my husband with the caught-red-handed-and-how-do-i-get-out-of-this-one expression. ‘umm yeah but he just called and you are going to be around right’ the increasingly anxious husband retorts who is now anticipating a full blown war of the affections. And there it is slapped on your face the ugly truth: we are always together. What was initially the problem is now THE problem.
I believe what fuels this quest of ‘why doesn’t he’ is the fact that ‘he’ doesn’t really care that much. Men are probably (as we try convincing ourselves) not build to wonder the nitty gritty of relationships and indulge in relentless questions of whys and why not’s. They probably resign themselves to the eventual fate of marriage, quite contentedly, and determinedly move on. To greener pastures, or at least less peculiar and baffling matters. Like play station. And THAT infuriates us. Propels us to move forward in our mission to change.
Yes my friends change. Change this man who has so conveniently and comfortably (frustratingly so) settled into this routine of a life devoid of any passion and enthusiasm (towards us). The mere smell of the word change is enough for a man to let his guard (and his ego) up so as to protect himself from this suspicious plot that is he is being maneuvered into. It’s a futile attempt after this. He has convinced himself that what so ever comes after this is infused with insincerity and deceptiveness. Trickery ; and no one tricks him he’s a man after all and what’s a man who becomes putty in the hands of a woman. It’s a battle of the sexes and no one is willing to give in.
To us women, one should understand, this is pure betrayal. Fraud. Things have changed. And change is a horrible nasty thing from the comforts and predictability of sameness. There are no thunderous declarations of ever consuming love; of storming home and sweeping us of our feet (literally) and claiming that we are the sole reason of a presumably otherwise trivial existence. Anniversaries, birthdays and other affairs that were earlier eagerly anticipated, become a cause of concern for both parties. She frets ‘will he remember’ while he agonizes ‘what should I gift her? (that I have not already!)’ provided he remembers which is a more serious concern altogether. Which while keeping in mind general male creativity skills with matters of the heart, the options would be quite meager.
Men become too comfortable women become increasingly uncomfortable. Men snore women fidget. Men rationalize women agonize. A dear friend of mine is a feminist at heart and generally unruffled in matters relating to the opposite sex (who cares!). She once said to me over dinner as I was furiously chomping away my food after a third evening in a row with her, in desperation to reach home instaneously upon learning my hubby was home already. ‘Would he do the same if it was him instead of you?’ she asks casually. My fork clattered on the plate as I immediately launched into a defensive fumbling explanation of my apparent misdemeanor while at the same time creepily feeling like a two year old reprimanded for stealing chocolates. Predictably the thought did nag me on the way home and along with it the obvious answer (no he wouldn’t!). And guess what i smothered my anger with: clattering more dishes once I did get home.
Another friend of mine a charming girl with a beautiful son, said to me one day showing off her newly purchased Hermes scarf and admiringly gazing at it ‘isn’t it nice…I bought it the other day I was so pissed off at _ so I went to the mall to clear my head and I just fell in love with this ’. I think it’s the female way of unconsciously extracting revenge and the entire better if it’s off the spouse’s credit card. After all a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do eh? Another friend, a preoccupied successful girl soaring in the field of law one day declared’ hey love is so 18th century today its money and independence!’. So is this what the new generation woman would be I wonder: methodical, practical and in terms with the unpredictability of love and all things abstract and indefinite. Is this how she is already?
Fine, men are as they claim with superiority ‘too cool for this. We have other important things to think about’. Do they really? I mean at times I think men are just too shallow really and what they claim as intentional ignorance is actually denseness and mental incapacity. And they are selfish. Come on guys let’s face it you are a tad bit selfish. When you love it is to relinquish a need and that need is literally what it is a requirement of desire, support or loneliness that has to be attended to immediately because it’s an emotion and well you can’t handle too much of it! Bottom line: ME. When a woman loves on the other hand it is because of commitment. Commitment to the better half to be there and to love UNCONDITIONALLY. Unconditionally-ring a bell? I didn’t think so.
But then I think can we really just conveniently blame it all on the men? Do we just reduce to needy, critical, insecure species that realistically speaking who would find companionable much less desirable?. Maybe we are from different planets and hence polar opposites. And maybe it is these
Don’t get me wrong though there are many men who are perfectly in tuned with women ; their anxieties, weaknesses, expectations; their emotions needless to say. But usually these are the guys who are our friends at school and the ones we go shopping with not the ones we eventually get married to. In this process of connecting and bonding they become alas ‘one of the girls’. Although, they too will marry and that makes me ask myself in puzzlement: why did we not marry our guy best friend from school? That ultimately leads me to the embarrassing conclusion that well we held the knife and stabbed ourselves with it. Who’s to blame?
