In my other chapters I have recounted the previous 3 marriages I had prior to Squeaky. In those three failed marriages, I was lost in alcoholism, addiction and undiagnosed depression. They were doomed to fail. I give God most of the credit for my successful marriage to Kris (Squeaky). The rest of the credit goes to her. She dealt with my insanity, mood swings, unreachability, selfishness and indifference. I would have left me a long time ago. She saw through the madness, into my soul and saw there was an actual decent human being in there. I am eternally grateful to God for putting us together and to her for not letting us fall apart.
I love my wife and am as happily married as is humanly possible. I will be with her for the rest of whatever life God gives us. I can honestly say that my wife is my friend. I never feel the need to get away from her. There is nothing another woman could give me that Squeaky doesn't give me already. Our kids see our friendship and love and I am glad they understand the difference. It is easy to fall in love with someone you can't stand. Love is perfect when it is matched with soul connection and a friendship that is man and wife and much more.
That being said we are both still human. The song "I only have eyes for you" is absolute crap unless you are blind. As a man I see women who are attractive. As a woman my wife sees men who are attractive. It is how we react to these "visual distractions" that make for harmony or hell raising. I remember in the crazy days when a pretty woman walked across the room my eyes would follow her all the way along her trip. I had no respect for my wife's feelings. I thought it was harmless but that is from a Neanderthal Man point of view. Women seem to take a quick look at a handsome man and instantly return to whatever they were doing.
My wife and I have 2 ways of dealing with opposite sex attraction. The first is the "3 second rule." Each of us is allowed to take note of the pleasant looking subject for 3 seconds and then reconnect to each other. The second is "compliment code." My wife thinks Andy Garcia is a dream. When he comes on screen she'll say, "He is a very good actor." That's my cue. She thinks he's handsome without her gawking at the screen and shouting, "huma-huma-huma!" When I see Neve Campbell I comment that, "She is a very good actress." Message sent we move on.
My wife is actually a master of cooling my visual libido the older I get. Women are cunning like that. If I see an actress like Megan Fox on the screen and comment on her acting ability, my wife is quick to point out that she is the same age as our oldest daughter. This response sends me from intrigued to disgusted with myself when I realize the actress is practically a kid. Having a daughter that is 25 and 18 wipes out alot of the talent pool. My comments on the attractiveness of Diane Keaton is welcomed by my wife and a cute agreement with my assessment.
Men also secretly want to have women find them attractive. Although happily married, it is an ego feeding proposition to consider that a Barbie-like woman finds us middle aged dads attractive. It is not something you dwell on but it sits in the back of our thick male skulls. The funny part is how we react as men when one of these Barbie-like youngsters seem to take an interest in us.
Last summer I was doing some work around the house. I needed some WD40 and some other miscellaneous hardware items. Dressed in my Van Morrison tee shirt and some dirty cargo shorts, I made my way to the local box hardware emporium. I went from aisle to aisle hunting and gathering the items I needed to complete my "Honey Do List." I moved quickly like I was on a recon mission. I like to get in and get out. I'm not the type of guy to browse around the store.
At the back of the sore, as I picked up my last item, I turned from the shelf and found myself face-to-face with a 20-something Barbie. I was not in the 3 second check mode. I wanted to get home and complete my projects. As I started toward the middle aisle she stepped in front of me and said "You have a Van Morrison shirt on." I looked down and saw she was correct and commented that my wife and I had just seen him on his last tour. I am a music audiophile. I can talk music all day, no ulterior motive needed.
She took another step toward me and said "I really like Van Morrison," twisting back and forth like the bad girl from Catholic school. I was taken off guard a bit and politely mumbled "Yeah, he's the Belfast Cowboy. Ireland's Bob Dylan." I was turning away and it happened. Her next comment was not what one would call Christianly. Looking me right in the eye she cooed "The only thing I like more than Van Morrison is YOU!"
My hands trembled as I unlocked my car and dove into the drivers seat. I hunched down thinking she might have followed me out the door. What a goof! Like she knew what car I was driving! I snapped up my cellphone and called my wife. Her voice was like "glue" in the game of tag I found myself in the middle of. I explained the whole thing to her and she LAUGHED. I was shaken silly by the experience and she thought it was a riot. Now I felt emasculated by not only the terror I faced with Barbie, but how my wife took the final slice at me with her amusement at the whole episode.
To this day we laugh at the story. I do not go back to that box store. I have found another one. I have radar to make sure only hardware store stereotypes help me. I had been faced with the ultimate middle aged fantasy. Of course some flirting or chest puffing conversation would have been harmless. NOPE! I ran to the car and hid, afraid that Barbie was gonna catch me, trembling like a child. The fantasy was over.
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