After twenty-eight years, I’ve often contemplated the idea, I don’t know who I am without you.
It sounds a bit extreme, yes, but think about this a moment. When we cohabitate with another over a long period of time, the lines become blurred. Memories mix. Was it your dog that ate all the food but only spit out the peas? Or was that my dog? Maybe it was the neighbor’s dog. Heck, I don’t know. I think it was my uncle who didn’t like peas. Just forget it. Pour another glass of wine.
I’ve been trained over the years. For one, I want to let the pans soak; she wants them washed and put away before the food’s done cooking. Apparently, leaving kitchen cupboards open attracts aliens. Towels must be hung at a twenty-two-and-a-half-degree angle. Everything has a place and all glasses need a coaster. Ugh. It’s really exhausting trying to remember all the rules. I should write a manual for newlyweds.
So, when the wife left me and the dogs alone for eight days to visit work people Down Under, well, to say the least, I was elated. The idea of no-rules was the chaotic excitement I’d been craving. Dishes sitting in the sink for days. Cupboards left open like a poltergeist raid. Towels flung on the rack without proper placement. Heck, yeah. Let’s get this party started.
I got my RAD List, not a honey-do list, set for seven crazy nights.
Play metal really loud. Check. Run around the house naked while listening to music—really loud. Check. Turn down the music because the dogs don’t seem to enjoy it as much as I do. Check. Plug in the electric guitar and practice Crazy Train at 2am. Check. Get a text from the neighbor to unplug the amp at 2:05am. Check. Practice yoga on the front lawn at noon because all the neighbors will join. Check. Roll the mat up because the neighbor’s called the cops. Check.
I could go on and on about all the ME things I planned but basically, none of that happened—well, except the loud music, nakedness, dirty dishes, and possibly the poltergeist situation with the cupboards, but that’s neither here or there.
After a week of solitude, I’ve learned a few things about myself. Not only am I a slob who listens to music loud, plays guitar poorly, but I realize I make far too many tipsy phone calls to friends who wished they didn’t answer the phone just then and say god-awful things to people I love. Seriously, I make really bad decisions when I don’t have my rock, my sounding board, to help stop the goo that falls from my mouth. Turns out, I’m a mess.
My dad once said that she saved me. And how can you argue with a smart man? Of course, he also said that Friday the 13th falls on a Wednesday this month, so make of it as you will. The bottom line is…I don’t want to know who I am without you.