You know the honeymoon's over when...
By Kathy Jo Kramer
When I was single, full moons drew tears to my eyes - illuminated loneliness making its slow arc across my vacant sky. I'd lie in bed with a brilliant night sneaking through my window and think how much more beautiful it would be if only there was someone beside me to share it with.
Bruce answered every wish my heart had whispered. We fell so in love that being apart hurt. I knew that when we finally set up house, we'd do all the things you read about in personal ads and then return to our precious nest.
We'd cook together and eat at the table, not in front of the TV. No more reading a cereal box to get me through a lonely breakfast. I'd never bathe alone again. I dreamt a candlelit life of endless conversation and infatuation.
The day came - how cute to share a closet! Our clothes hung so happily - together at last. But as I placed my shoes next to his, I paused. Living under one roof, it's easy to step on each other's toes.
The fifth night Bruce and I spent living together, we crawled in bed and snuggled next to each other. It wasn't five minutes before he fell asleep. On our fifth night? The only thing worse than falling asleep right after making love is falling asleep beforehand.
When we were single and our liaisons were limited to weekends, he never fell asleep. Did I think he would never be too tired to make love? Yes. Yes, I did. For at least a week anyway.
Oh, and the romantic showers - before we lived together, they were foreplay. But now, taking a shower with him and trying to wash my hair meant I stood shivering with soap running in my eyes while waiting for a turn under the water. And I can't shave my legs while he's watching. When I do it quickly, he gets a terrified look like I'm going to gash myself, so I get nervous and end up gashing myself.
He shaves after he showers, when the mirror's fogged. He uses his hand to rub a place so he can see himself. He says he can't wait until the mirror clears because he won't get as good of a shave. How would I ever keep that mirror clean?
And those romantic meals - well, I never had soy sausage in mind. I try to eat healthy, but Bruce's idea of good food makes me a bit nauseous. I've discovered that if I put it in a hot dog bun and douse it with ketchup, all is well.
I never thought I could fear laundry, but that was before I looked at his socks. It's as if he doggedly holds on to his bachelor independence by refusing to replace the holey socks. And my gosh, I never saw a man so intense about how his underwear is folded....
Back in those romance-filled wistful days, how I longed to see his face each morning. Well, he's not exactly a morning person, and I never knew someone could be so plagued by morning breath that he couldn't even speak.
But truth be told, his peccadilloes are minor, and despite my slight complaints, things have gone pretty well. After a full day, even with these tiny aggravations, I still can't wait to be next to him in bed - even on the nights he falls asleep and takes all the covers. Love is like the moon, rising or falling, brighter some nights than others and subject to cloudy skies. But even then, you know it's there. What's to complain about?