I assume part of my wedding vows, though I don’t recall the priest explicitly saying it, surely implied Thou Shalt Not Make Out With Other Dudes. In that regard, kissing is a huge deal. I’d never kiss a guy who wasn’t my husband. Likewise, if I ever caught my husband kissing another lady, I’d spray him with Lysol and make him sleep on the couch. Wait. That’s disgusting. I’d make him sleep on the floor, probably with no blanket and I’d be very unfun to live with for the foreseeable future.
Chicago Now writer P.M. Banks commented about the Audi prom kid commercial that kissing is a “gateway” activity. It’s the pot of sex. By that logic, a person who kisses isn’t neccessarily having a full affair. Yet. Right? Catching your partner kissing someone else would be like catching one of those Loony Tunes bombs right before the coyote throws it on the roadrunner. Maybe the damage could be thwarted and you’d go on to resume a happy marriage. Or maybe it would just blow up in your faces. Either way, it’s not the smoking bomb itself that would be the problem, it would have been how that match got lit in the first place. One culprit could be lack of kissing.
The idea of getting a divorce terrifies me. My whole life I’ve collected little tidbits about how to stay married. I store them in the shoeboxes of my brain and try to operate using all of them at once, like Santa mastering the reins of dozens of conflicting reindeer. Be hard to get, but easy to live with. Don’t be a doormat. But be interesting. But put yourself second. Err . . . put yourself first because if mama ain’t happy, nobody’s happy. Etcetera. Michelle Duggar swears the secret is long, poufy hair. In all of this motley wisdom, the one thing that seems to ring across all advice is that divorce is a last option. As a matter of fact, I’ve heard the advice to never even use the d-word in any conversation in your house, ever. Even speaking of it now knocks out my rational, scientific, empirical mind and spooks me with the feeling I’m summoning Bloody Mary in a dark mirror. That is how terrified of it I am. In fact, I haven’t even written about my marriage because it’s such a guarded, precious thing that I’d never want to let anyone into.
It would stand to reason that with kissing being such a big deal, possibly the catalyst to the d-word for many people, that there should be ample amounts of it in your house. Kissing is important. Do you kiss your partner every day? I mean, a real kiss? One time I heard Honey Boo Boo Mama June (judge me!) say that she never kisses Sugar Bear. Never. Like, they never, ever kiss. One might assume it has something to do with that nasty dip habit he’s got, but then again she doesn’t wash her neck so they ought to just accept each other how they come and plant a big one right on the kisser, I say.
Wait. Shake that image from your mind. You’re supposed to be getting in the mood to kiss, people! Let’s think of how fun it is to get a great kiss. I want you to give your sweetie a long, good pucker tonight. It’s important. Brush your teeth. Smile. Close your eyes. Actually kiss your partner like you’re going off to
war prom and don’t stop today, you have to do it tomorrow too. I don’t care if you’re mad, or tired, or busy. There is nothing more important in a family than loving parents and kissing is so easy to do. It’s funny how something so important can get overlooked.
PS, In honor of Valentine’s Day, here are the best posts I’ve read about how to make sure a bomb never gets lit in your marriage:
Fifteen Ways To Stay Married For Fifteen Years by Lydia Netzer via Huffington Post
Sixteen Ways I Blew My Marriage by Single Dad Laughing
(Note: after that post was published, he later came out as bisexual which may played a part in the demise of his marriages as well. Still great advice though!)
What You Can Do Right Now to Safeguard Your Relationship Against a Bloody, Messy Death by Melanie Pinola via Lifehacker
Is Facebook ruining Your Marriage? by Wendy Widom via Chicago Now
Scientists FInd Mathematical Formula For Perfect Wife by Stephen Adams via The Telegraph. Hint: Be five years younger and 27% smarter than your husband. Just kidding. Sort of.
Happy Valentine’s Eve, you crazy kids. Now pucker up!
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Filed under: Hitched