April 4, 2003

For a person who wouldn't even dream of getting a tattoo, for fear of something lifelong, it does seem a bit strange that marriage is agreeing with me. So far, so good, anyway.

I once asked Ed, who's been married more than ten years to a woman as different from him as my husband is to me, just what the secret is. His answer was that you don't think in terms of The Rest Of Your Life, but more like one day at a time: every morning you wake up, you decide to stay married that day.

I didn't understand, but now I do. Another friend predicted this: "walls you didn't even know were inside you will come crashing down." He was right, too.

Don't get me wrong- I loved my single life. Even enjoyed being alone, most of the time. Wouldn't trade it for anything. But I'm glad to be doing this other thing now. When I left my studio in Riverdale, my beloved fortress of solitude, I thought I'd cry and cry. Funny thing, though, not a tear was shed. I loved it, yes, but it's time was over- and I moved on to a whole new chapter. Mind you, I took a lot of digital pics before locking the door the last time...

It's not all homecookin' and pink roses, of course. There are days (to paraphrase Alan Alda's character speaking in the movie The Four Seasons) when you can hardly wait for your partner to come through the door, and there are other days when the way they breathe irritates the hell out of you. And sometimes, I regret to report, both spouses are having the latter sort of day at the same time. The only possible rememdy for those untreasured moments is to get the fuck out of Dodge for the afternoon. I'm serious, friends- Rob works in his office, and I work in my studio, and even if we can't see each other I can feeeel his viiiiiibe and it's pissing me off!

But like I said, it doesn't come to that all that often, and in fact we get along very well almost always. Different though we are, we enjoy the same occasionally earthy (read: desperately vulgar) sense of humour, besides which he claims I have the "lowest amusement threshold of any adult human" he has ever met. Good thing he married me, eh?

Here's the thing: I think all people live several lives. Not in the reincarnation sense, though that could be up for debate. I mean that all of us have a public life, a personal life, a private life... and a secret life.

The public life is what just about everyone sees, from total strangers to casual aquaintances. This would be what you have at most workplaces, too.

The personal life is shared with those who know you better. Your circle of friends. Your family.

The private life is not merely a cheap euphemism for sex- it's the entire relationship with spouses, partners, lovers.

The secret life, the interior life, is one I fear many people overlook. It's your own self-image, separate from any of the above. It's where dreams and desires live, your history, your mythos, all of it. And it's entirely yours. It's not just there, it's there to be used, enjoyed, treasured. It's where you meditate. It's where I do the largest part of my work. What goes on the paper is just the tip of the iceberg.

A wise person told me this about marriage: you are responsible to your spouse for all your actions, but not all your thoughts.

And that's true. Even in a relationship like this, you're allowed privacy. Personal space. Because let's face it- I'm done with the singles buffet, but nothing says I can't occasionally glance at the menu.

As the aforementioned Ed is occasionally wont to declare, "I'm married- not dead!"