Up here in Maine, there's been a whole lot of talk surrounding gay marriage in recent weeks. And we all know that when there's talk of gay marriage we're also met with a great deal of information that deals with 'preserving the sanctity of marriage.'
Ahh the sanctity of marriage.
"What does that really mean," you might wonder? Or you could be thinking, "I would like more strong examples of the sanctity of marriage in action."
Well, without further ado, I give you:
The Sanctity of Marriage, Lawson Style
Last night, when Jared finally came home from work, that man was way beyond cranky. He was irritable and demanding, and if I didn't have a set of working eyes I would have bet money on the fact that I was talking to a constipated 90 year-old with a raging case of gout--not a level-headed 29 year-old who's been blessed with a very delicious backside.
Jared blasted through the side door sometime around 7pm, and before he even thought about putting his bag on its hook he was barking all kinds of commands at me. He was like, "Make me a dang sandwich you useless woman!" and "Get your sorry self to the grocery store this instant you big old thing!"
Or maybe it was like, "Oh bummer, I'm trying to make myself a sandwich but we're all out of turkey. I thought you were planning to grocery shop today, hun. I'm pretty hungry."
I really can't remember, but either way it was completely over the top.
He was grouchy, I was grouchy, and within fourteen minutes my husband was headed back out the door, on his way to my in-law's house--with the obvious intention of spreading nasty, horrible, and untrue rumors all about his wife.
Or maybe it was something about a Red Sox game, their big screen TV and the availability of sandwich fixins.' Again, raging case of pregnancy brain, I really can't recall.
Either way, upon his leaving, I was quite upset that Jared Lawson had failed to notice the bow in my hair, my adorable new handmade apron, the steaming hot apple pie, and my lacy thong underwear.
(Or was it a freezer burnt brownie and my Tasmanian Devil pajama pants?)
One thing is surely obvious: in this case, the details of this story are completely unimportant. I was angry, and rightfully so.
That's why I made a very difficult decision--to insert one of Jared's muddy hiking boots under the sheets, at the foot of his side of the bed. He passionately hates a set of sandy sheets, and I super hated his attitude, so the moment he slipped into bed, we could be mean and hateful together--you know, as a couple thing.
When he finally nuzzled into bed sometime around 11:30, that man was even angrier. He was all, "Amy! You put a BOOT in the stinkin' BED?! Do you even have any concept of how disgusting that is?!" Then he continued with a passionate "GEEZE!" as he hurled that very substantial piece of footwear far away from his sleeping area.
As if his overreaction alone wasn't too inappropriate to handle, that big, heavy, filthy boot landed right on the side of my face.
Of course I cried. A lot. And Jared was like, "Oh, I'm so sorry Amy. I never wanted that boot to hit you in the face."
And I was all, "Then why did you make it do that?"
And he was all, "I had a bad day, and it's way too dark to see anything. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm really sorry. Really, I'm sorry. Did I mention how dark it is in here?"
And then I fell asleep smiling--because dude, I totally won.
You know, after writing that story I've come to realize that maybe there is some measure of truth to the whole 'sanctity' argument.
You see, there is absolutely no way that two men could ever possibly achieve that level of sanctity in a marriage relationship. They're way too calm and forgiving--and it's all due to the lack of estrogen.
(And no, I will not share my actual opinion regarding gay marriage on this blog. But c'mon--you already knew that! I don't do controversy.)