On the eve of my wedding I find myself pondering the makings of a good marriage and the differences between men and women, and trying to determine if there are any last minute changes I can make that will ensure that my wife never complains about me to her friends.

Just as scientists are able to conclude that dinosaurs were emotional by reconstructing their skeletons, I attempted to glean the secrets of marital bliss by examining my parents' 38 year marriage. In hopes of cutting through the BS, I first employed the “if A exists and B exists, then A must cause B” line of reasoning and have determined that my parents' strong marriage is probably a result of my father's mustache, which he has had for the entirety of the marriage.  Given, however, that this construct once caused the extinction of the Mastodon in hopes of ending a drought, the scientist in me feels it would be imprudent to end my inquiry here.

Since high level logic failed to produce a definitive result, I decided to think about my own experiences in watching their marriage in an attempt to find answers.  Since I spent  a ten year stretch of my parents marriage wetting my pants and begging for candy I am having a hard time speaking to what kept them happy in the 1980's, but since I know it wasn't supply-side economics  I conclude that their flame was maintained, in part, by their insistence upon family meals, even when my brother had already eaten a dozen English muffins after school, and my other brother was in his bedroom with the lights off talking to girls on the phone or complaining about being too hot. 

When I think back on my childhood I mostly recall my father wearing tall socks with khaki shorts, but I also recall my mother giving him a hard time about the fact that he frequently fell asleep mid-bite or mid-sentence and then giving him a harder time when he woke up and walked to the pantry to begin eating salty foods.  I'd like to think that my father appreciated her concern for his health, but since all of these things still happen on a daily basis, I conclude that the lesson here is to nag your partner, as long as you have no intention of changing his behavior, or as long as he has no intention of listening to you.

While some couples keep their marriages alive by taking nice vacations, my parents have kept theirs alive by talking about taking nice vacations and then taking car trips to New Jersey.  The conversation generally begins when someone we know goes on a nice trip and my father says “is that where you want to go?”  He says to imply that the reason they haven't yet gone anywhere is the result of not having found a suitable place.  When my mother responds that she would, in fact, like to go to the place in question and remarks that my father never takes her anywhere, my father reminds her he did buy her snow tires for Christmas in 1996 and that she can visit our lake house in the tundra of the Adirondacks whenever she wants, including the spring and fall when she can stay indoors or risk wind burn.

What my father lacks in planning romantic getaways he makes up for with gift giving that rivals kings and nobles.  I actually have no idea what nobles are, or what they give for gifts, but my mother has been the recipient of a parakeet which lived for nearly a decade in our bathroom that my father bought to keep her company while she was at home, waiting for her three children to come home from school and make noise. 

My final observation about what makes this marriage tick is the way each party has stuck to what they do best. In my entire life, my father has created only three meals that were not breakfast, or breakfast for lunch or breakfast for dinner, and all three came out of a can.  While my mother keeps my parents alive with healthy good-tasting food, my father tackles complicated task such as using an ATM, driving, and retrieving objects from on top of the kitchen cabinets.

As I look to the horizon, I am confident that by emulating some of my parents' tricks, my fiance and I can weave some magic into our marriage and enjoy similar happiness.  My first move, of course, will be to convince her that she should do all of the cooking, but I've started the mustache in the off-chance she balks.