What's mine is not yours
May 16th 2010 08:50
The word marriage, according to Dictionary.com, is: “social institutions under which [two people] establish their decision to live by legal commitments.”
Now, this being the formalized version of the definition does not mean that there are not many different ways to define marriage.
I have no problem saying in front of a judge, a roomful of family and friends or The Big Guy Upstairs, that I pledge my life to my husband for eternity. That being said, I noticed that not anywhere in the definitions that I read, did it say that the two parties would be under any legal obligation to share certain things.
Before I met my husband, I had an apartment and in that apartment I had my very own, king-sized waterbed – all for me. I didn’t pick that bed under the pretence that one day I would have someone to share it with. I picked it because I like my space while dancing through dreamland.
The other night, after moving and setting our own bed back up, my husband sprawled out across it and said, quite happily, “Ahh, this bed seems huge!” (In comparison to the one we slept on before we set ours up.)
Thank goodness it was dark because, while rolling my eyes, I replied: “You realize no matter what bed we are in, it’s huge to you because you get at least two-thirds of it while I’m curled up in a ball trying not to fall off the edge.”
So this led to an extended conversation where he told me that apparently there are couples out there who enjoy cuddling in bed. To which I replied, that those couples were either cold or were just short of their paper or gold anniversaries.
Don’t get me wrong, I really love my husband and do enjoy the occasional bedtime cuddle, but if given preference, I’d have a California King, be in the shape of a large “X” while sleeping and have to send telegrams to communicate.
And don’t even get me started on sharing food. Just ask my husband what happens if you try to take some food off of my plate and he’ll tell you you’re likely lose a finger...at least.
I attribute this small personality flaw to growing up poor. I remember not being able to wait until I was an adult and I could walk into any store and buy whatever I wanted.
So yes, while other women fantasize about expensive shoes and trips to Italy, I dream about a bed the size of the Grand Canyon sidled up next to an all-you-can-eat buffet.
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