“We never fight with each other.” The couple made the statement.
“Oh. You must not be married.” I commented.
“We are married.” They replied in unison.
“Then you must be married to different people.” I was sure.
“We are married to each other.”
“Newly married?” I asked even though they did not look that young. May be they married late.
“Ten years.” They were smiling as if facing the press cameras after winning the Wimbledon mixed doubles.
Something is wrong here, I wonder. After ten years they should be practicing WWE.
What are they still trying to explore in each other? Ten years is long enough to find each and every, plus imaginary faults and stamp ‘Tested Not OK’.
Now I need to explore their marriage.
“Do you ever find him flirting with other females in parties?” I explored.
“Sometimes he does that.” She punched him on the arm as she replied.
See, I touched the landmine. There should be some explosion.
“And how do you react to that?” I asked her, expecting some fireworks at least. Even a China made landmine should emit some sound and smoke.
“I walk up to him and the girl of his interest and say hello. Then I put on my best smile, point towards her and ask my hubby – is she the same girl you were describing as scumbag?” she smiled. “The girl disappears, and I reclaim him.”
“And what are your thoughts at that moment?” I asked the hubby. I am sure his thoughts must not be printable.
“I am happy that way she improves her vocabulary. She has never used the same word or description twice.”
It is a faulty landmine.
“That is cute.” I had to admit. I again addressed the wife. “And what about the times when he comes back home late and drunk after partying with his friends?” This one has the potential of starting a mini civil war.
“He claims he gets kidnapped sometimes and friends just won’t let him leave.” She said.
“Yes, that happens. It is just to feel young, re-live the bachelorhood. And come back to her with vitality of youth, factory fresh. Can’t just let the feeling of growing old, creep into such a beautiful relationship.” Hubby chipped in.
“Oh yes.” The wife agreed. “We have a rule at home – door to our bedroom gets bolted from inside at 10 pm, with him or without him. If he comes back home late – after imbibing youth from his friends – he has to acclimatise the newfound youth, overnight in the guest bed room. We play by the rules and there is no conflict.” All this with a constant smile on her face.
She knows how to negotiate the potholes in the road.
“What happens when he brings over friends for drinks and dinner?” There has to be a fuse somewhere.
“She plays the perfect host. Such tasty snacks and dinner on the go.” He was all praise for her. “And I tell her, she can bring home her friends and I shall take care of all.”
“And that is what I do. Very next day I bring home equal number of my friends. It was actual fun the first time when I told him four of my friends will be coming over. He was so excited. And when I told him they would like to have drinks also, he took out the best of his stock. He went into shock when he realised I had invited all my male colleagues. After that, frequency has really come down. And he makes it a point to inform me well in advance about his friends coming home and brings packed food.” She was actually giggling.
Time to look for some dormant ammunition in the man.
“Tell me sir, what happens when she says – sorry darling, I have headache?” I asked the hubby.
“That is so unfortunate. I mean having a headache is really distressing. I always offer to give her head massage, but she so politely tells me to keep away from her. Poor girl thinks headache is contagious. Many a times I have hangover headache in the morning which is better than her headache in the night. I always pray to God to give me headache in the morning but spare her the headache at night.” There was genuine concern in his voice.
Such a lovely couple.
Views expressed above are the author’s own.
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