I'm Not Sorry

Recently, I was out with my cousin. She's the same age as me, she's married to a great guy and has two adorable and sweet little kids. She's involved in the PTA and was regaling me with a story about a crazy mom who brought vegan cupcakes to school and refused to offer any of the kids regular cupcakes.

Then she brought up how all the mom's at the bus stop bitch about their husbands. I don't have kids, so I don't frequent school bus stops, but I have been involved in conversations with other women where all they do is bitch about their significant others.

"I don't have anything to complain about," my cousin admitted, almost apologetically. "Sometimes I try to think of something just so I can contribute to the conversation."

I've been in similar situations with the women at work. One of my co-workers said one time, "Oh, don't bitch to Casey, she actually likes her husband. She's weird."

It makes me sad that that makes me weird. Why is it weird to like your spouse? And why do women who have happy marriages feel like they have to apologize for it?

This particular conversation my cousin was telling me about stemmed from bath time. Apparently this is a hot topic with the bus stop moms. They have husbands who refuse to help with bath time. There was a PTA meeting that week and one mom was lamenting that if it ran late again she'd have to rush home to get her kid into the bath and into bed on time.

"I don't have to ask for Mike's help, he just gets the kids into the bath if I'm not home," my cousin went on. "Actually, as long as we're both home, we do bath time together. It's kind of our thing. We've never talked about it, we just always have. It's our routine."

This brought on some heart-tugging imagery I conjured up of my cousin and her little family all piled into their bathroom together. And really, her son is six and growing up fast. How much longer is he going to want to bathe with his little sister? I told her to hang on to these moments and I decided right there on the spot that I wanted that too. 

"I'm afraid to admit how good I have it," she said.

"Why? I think you should just tell them."  

"And be the source of marital discord in the neighborhood?"

But why should we be hiding our good relationships like skeletons in the closet? I stopped apologizing for the fact that my husband makes me dinner every night. Or that I'd rather hang out with him than have a "girl's night". 

There is some debate about what the divorce rate actually is nowadays. You hear 50% tossed around a lot. That half of all marriages are doomed to end in divorce (or maybe not doomed, maybe it's for the best for those people). This article I found argues that it might actually be declining. 

Whatever the case may be—if someone unhappy in their marriage feels completely at ease to air their grievances in a semi public social setting, why should someone on the opposite end of the spectrum feel like they can't speak up?

A lot of times you'll get criticized for not saying anything at all. My husband told me that he's been involved in more than one conversation with other men bitching about their wives and the lack of sex in their marriages. Mr. McKay just doesn't say anything one way or the other and it always gets noticed, comments like, "Oh, nothing to add? Guess you're a lucky man," get tossed his way. And much like my cousin with the bus stop moms, he felt the need to apologize.

I know that not long ago in our society, people weren't encouraged to talk about their problems and their bad relationships. I am happy that this stigma has fallen away, I think people should be able to talk about whatever they need to talk about. I don't think a failed marriage is something that should be hidden in shame or kept a secret. But I also don't think that those of us in happy marriages should feel apologetic about it.

I'm not saying my marriage is perfect, or that my husband is perfect. We fight. We argue about dumb things and we don't see eye to eye on every single thing in life. Just this week I flew into a hangry hissy fit that he ate all of the leftover corned beef hash on me while I was at work. Sure, he made it to begin with. Sure, there was nothing else to eat in the house. But a text is all I ask for, otherwise I come home wanting to eat something that isn't there! 

See? We have problems too.

All joking aside, we love each other and we genuinely like each other. He's my favorite person and he makes me happy. 

If you ask me, I'm going to tell you. And I'm not sorry about that.