September is always a crazy month for the Mitch family. As previously mentioned, we have Little Mitch’s birthday, and his commencement of that fancy book learning known as pre-kindergarten. Then we finish off the month with Mrs. Mitch’s birthday. Somewhere in the middle of all this we try to celebrate our wedding anniversary. The actual date of our anniversary is two days after Little Mitch’s birthday but we learned one year that doing both the same weekend was a logistical nightmare.
On Little Mitch’s first birthday we ended up being two hours late to a hotel romance package night because my overly social wife could not stop talking to guests at his party. Then she was so tired and worn out from throwing Little Mitch’s party that she got a migraine and went straight to bed at the hotel for a three hour nap. I ended up sitting in my hotel bathrobe sucking back cheap imitation champagne and watching pro wrestling while she napped. Then, to top that off we got a call from our babysitter early the next morning that Little Mitch was really sick and we should come home. So we checked out four hours early to head home to deal with a sick one year old. Yes, that $195 hotel package was well worth it. We learnt our lesson that year, his birthday first, then our anniversary later in the month whenever the hell we can squeeze it in. Looking back, memories of the hotel anniversary fiasco are now a nice metaphor for marriage, parenthood and pro wrestling, sometimes the storyline doesn’t go the way you intend to but the bumps and bruises keep it interesting. I just hope there’s no steel chairs to the head involved in your marriage, unless that’s your foreplay, hey I don’t judge, whatever gets your freak on.
After fifteen years of being together and eight of those married, I am quite proud to say that I have absolutely no relationship advice to give you. Mainly for three reasons. One, I really don’t care about your relationship or how it’s going. Now, I don’t say this to be cold or to be a jerk, it’s just that I personally feel that, your relationship is your business and yours alone. Two, I have my own relationship and I have enough work on my hands to maintain that and most of the time I’m doing an Indiana Jones impression and making it up as I go. Three, I hate how smug some married people get. They get a couple decent years of marriage under their belt relatively unscathed and their Dr. Phil gene kicks in and next thing you know their doling out advice like it’s on clearance at Wal-Mart. I am absolutely terrified of becoming one of those advice doling smug married A-holes AKA Married Douches. Doesn’t that sound like a small french pastry appetizer? “I’ll have a Beaujolais with a nice light spring salad, light on the vinaigrette and we’ll share a small plate of Married Douches.”
Mrs. Mitch and I have been together since we were eighteen years old. Looking back now with the wisdom of a thirty-something, its mind boggling how young we really were. But when you’re eighteen you know it all and you think you’re so mature. What blows my mind even more is that we made it this long, we literally grew up from kids to adults together. The odds were not in our favour. See that on my wall? That’s not a Jackson Pollock print, that my mind on the wall after being blown. We’ve had our ups and down like any relationship, some big, some small, some massive, some minute, and a few of those forks in the road where you think do we keep this thing going? Yet we always managed to keep going and maintain a healthy relationship. “Maintain a healthy relationship” is such a lame marriage cliche; it really means we still fight as often as we have sex. Sometimes both at the same time.
I’ve had a few people ask me would I do it all again from such a young age? To be honest, I don’t know if I would. Mainly for the fact that the odds were not in our favour to go the distance, so if I were to do it all again we probably wouldn’t have made it. Then the other question usually is something like do you feel like you missed out on other things like living on your own, or doing the dating thing in your twenties? When I was younger, maybe, but I’m pretty fortunate to have a wife who gives me a long leash.
How long? She once let me go to Vegas, by myself. She didn’t want to go and my buddy couldn’t make the trip. Now Mrs. Mitch isn’t naive, she’s been to Vegas a few times and knows why they call it “Sin City.” One night on my solo Vegas trip I was casino hopping and looking quite dapper I must say. I was in a quiet part of a casino when my eye caught a tasty little blonde and I flashed her the charming Mitch smile, not for the sake of expecting anything, simply just to flirt and stroke my own ego to feel good about myself. She was instantly hooked on Mitch and beelined towards me. Meanwhile, I’m thinking “holy crap, that actually worked?”
She sat down beside me at the bar and struck up a conversation. We chatted for a good ten minutes, she was definitely flirting, every lame joke of mine was hilarious for her; even when I knew they weren’t. She was playing with her hair and she broke the touch barrier and did that forearm touch thing chicks do. I was really enjoying the conversation and innocent flirting but I was getting the vibe that this was leaving the realm of innocent flirting and headed towards trouble. Just as I was about to do a polite exit she demurely says “So, you want a date?” I been to Vegas five times; I know the lingo. She’s a prostitute. An extremely hot prostitute. An extremely hot prostitute with an amazing ass. I’m not going to lie, I was tempted. I’m a red blooded male, with three double Jim Beams, four Miller Lites and half a pack of Marlboros in me, alone in Las Vegas, how could I not be tempted?
The upside to having bipolar disorder is that your brain can think incredibly fast at times. In that six seconds between her proposal and my answer here’s my step by step thought process:
-Do I really want to be that guy? “Hooker guy”?
-I’m an OCD germaphobe, how many people has she been with? That thought makes my skin crawl.
-I’ve only been with one woman my entire life I would be too weirded out to be with another one.
-Or I would be so excited I would be done in two minutes, and if Mrs. Mitch found out is that two minutes worth destroying a marriage?
-My wife is way hotter than this chick and really why pay for what I’ll get for free in two days when I get home? That’s just bad economics.
-What would Little Mitch think of me?
I thanked for her proposal, paid for her drink and said “No thanks, I’m good.” Went back to my hotel, called Mrs. Mitch told her the story had a good laugh, took a shower to “relieve the tension”, got dressed and went back to the the Vegas Strip for a midnight dinner and some more gambling. That’s the closest thing I got to marriage advice for you.