I came in for a sandwich. I had just finished watching both kids' soccer practices, back-to-back, and had dropped Lexi off for Brownies - it was superwednesdayinsuburbianight- and I was hungry. I knew my girl would be too when I scooped her up.
Before I could even pick out the bread, the poor sandwich artist was in a funk. It was his birthday and he was feeling sorry for himself. Granted, I wouldn't want to spend my birthday at Subway, but I have heaved books around and taken finals on my glory day so I wasn't bound to start crying for him.
Then he started his treatise on the fall of marriage (he is lonely, no?) - that marriage is outdated and basically worthless. I could feel my left ring finger burning with evidence to the contrary, but I could see that sandwich man, pausing while he spoke, would not appreciate my tale of marital bliss. It would slow him down. Did I mention I was hungry?
Yet on he continued. He made it sound like my husband was probably carrying on with his other lady friend as I stood defending the sanctity of the institution. We hadn't even discussed the definition of 'everything on it' yet and he was starting to get under my skin. Fine. You don't want to believe someone who grew up with Brady Bunch digs marriage, more power to you. I get it. But denouncing all marriages as shams, worthless and a waste of time, while holding my 'veggie on oat bread with everything, except mayo' hostage is where I draw the polite line.
"It's funny you should mention all this today. It's my parents' anniversary - they've been married 38 years. They are out of town CELEBRATING."
I must have said it with authority because he finally stopped talking and got on with making my dinner. Or maybe it was the rabid drool on my chin. Suddenly he wanted me to go away so he could spend his last birthday hurrah harrassing fresh blood.
I often think it is pretty amazing that my parents met when they were 16, got married young, had babies and stuck together. To find the right person and to be the right person is difficult - marriage isn't for wimps.
And if being raised by parents that love each other, still, now, has shaped my rosy ways, so be it. Sure beats clobbering strangers over the head with cynicism any day.
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