Me Me Me

I have been married for my entire adult life, and my darling husband and I spend most of our (limited) free time together. In fact, until this past summer, neither of us had ever taken a vacation without the other. (He went fishing in Alaska, and the combination of elements involved in that — fishing + boats + Alaska — was a no-go for me, even before the world had heard of Sarah Palin.)

Anyway, I got to thinking about marriage after interviewing the inimitable Elizabeth Ashley, who holds a dim view of the institution after having been unsuccessful at it three times. According to her, a woman who can support herself has no need for marriage and is a lot happier living alone or communally with other women. Huh. That idea is about as foreign to me as becoming a survivalist in the woods of Montana.

I had less than zero idea of what marriage would be like when we arrived like the Clampetts at the NYU law school dorm (one room and a kitchenette overlooking the Waverly Theater in the then-skeevy Village). I certainly had no marital role models, since my parents couldn’t stand each other. But I lucked out in getting a companion so simpatico, I’d just as soon not speak to anybody else for an entire weekend.

It’s my DH’s birthday tomorrow, and I’m feeling mighty fortunate, even if I’m not wild about his newfound willingness to go on vacation without me.