35 years together: Laughter, love make relationship last
On my side of the family, a longlasting marriage is genetic. Nurse Vivian and Hap were married 54½ years. On Brian’s side, however, marriage was more of a blood sport. They didn’t have inlaws. They had “outlaws.”
His Aunt Jeannie is one example. Monmouth, Maine, is not a big town. Population of 4,129, according to 2018 data from the U.S. Census Bureau. Around the time she got her sixth divorce, Aunt Jeannie calculated she had an exfamily member in 1 out of 3 households. She ran out of clergymen willing to officiate.
After Brian’s mother divorced his father, Jerry, he went on to wed seven more times. His penultimate wife, Aloise, introduced him to his last, Edna, saying, “One more and we got a baseball team.”
It was, therefore, highly unlikely that Brian would stay with me as long as he has. When we first met, he was a Broadway dancer, whereas I sold dinnerware in downtown Newark.
My cousin Rita introduced us over lasagna at her apartment in Jersey City in 1985. Even she said, “It’s like Fred Astaire and Archie Bunker.” But against all odds, it worked.
This year marked the coral anniversary of when we first met. Nothing says “I love you” quite like marine invertebrates. It was once thought that red coral protects against pestilence, so considering the plague we’ve had lately, maybe the timing is right.
What’s our secret to happiness for all these years?
1. We’re the classic Western romance. Brian’s the dance hall girl. I’m the deputy. He doesn’t make me tango, and I don’t make him arrest criminals.
2. We didn’t rush into marriage. The fact that it was illegal at the time may have contributed, but on Sept. 19, 1987, in a little bar in Chelsea, Brian and I exchanged rings in front of a priest. His job with the Catholic Church didn’t last much longer, but Brian and I lasted the next 33 years and counting. In Germany that’s the tin anniversary, but in France it’s the porphyry anniversary. Had to look that one up. Porphyry is a crystal rock made of feldspar. After a third of a century, nothing says “I love you” quite like cooled magma.
3. We don’t switch anniversary dates. We became domestic partners on Sept. 19, 1991. We got legally married, on Sept. 19, 2008. That would officially make this our 12th anniversary, traditionally pearl, but Brian never cast pearls before wine.
I wrote to Hallmark to ask for their gay anniversary list: Which year is gym memberships, and which is Beyoncé tickets?
4. We don’t stay together for the children. But I do think that Zane and Aidan stay together for the sake of us parents. If brothers could divorce, Aidan would file for palimony.
We might be staying together for the sake of the dogs, who are much more loyal than our children. Queenie never complains about homework. Bandit never skips class, unlike Aidan who managed to be the first student at Riordan to earn virtual detention.
5. We still make each other laugh. It’s not a dad joke. It’s a husband joke, which means that it’s even lamer.
Whenever anyone asks me how long Brian and I have been together, I say, “35 years. And it feels like 35 minutes...” I clasp Brian’s hand. He smiles and adds, “Under. Water.”
We still argue over who drives worse (he does). We still live in the bedlam blue bungalow in the outer, outer, outer, outer Excelsior because that’s our
home. He still slouches in all of our pictures together so that people will think I’m the tall one.
We’ve made up our own family: sons and puppies, aunts and uncles, inlaws and “outlaws.”
Oh, yeah. And love. That’s the real secret.
After Brian’s mother divorced his father, Jerry, he went on to wed seven more times. His penultimate wife, Aloise, introduced him to his last, Edna.