Why is Neil Simon in my Shower?

Newlywed life = laughing required.

Scene: Driving down the road, trying to figure out where we should eat for dinner.

Hubs:
Buffet! We could eat at New China Buffet!

Me:
We ate at a buffet already this week.

Hubs:
But not Chinese.

Me:
I don’t want Chinese. Plus they’re expensive.

Hubs:
But it’s the most food for your money.

Me:
We’re already fat and don’t have any money.

Hubs:
Well we could always eat at Long John Silvers.

Me:
That’s it. I want a Divorce.

Hubs: (laughing)
What?! Why?

Me:
Oh, I figured if you were seriously suggesting we eat fast food fish in the MOUNTAINS where we’re miles away from any body of water, you were trying to kill me off. I figured divorce would be a safer option.

Hubs:
So, that’s a no to Long John Silvers?

End Scene.

I swear. My newlywed life is a Neil Simon play—and not just because we’re an “Odd Couple” (though learning to live together has proved to be quite an entertaining task). I always said Hubs was my playwriting inspiration. I don’t know why I stopped writing them because I’m living with perfect fodder. It’s like we’re trapped in our own modern version of Barefoot in the Park.

I have read almost all of Neil Simon’s plays, and his comedic timing has brought me through a lot of hard times. But what he really did for me was more than give me a good laugh or two or teach me to write plays. He taught me to change my entire outlook on life.

You see, Neil Simon is hysterical. But more than funny, he was real. He wrote about real situations that real people go through and just wrote them how they were.

People aren’t as serious as they like to let on—and if they are, then they’re pretty much boring or dead.

Even with Barefoot in the Park—that was based on his own newlywed life. He learned to laugh at the crazy and embrace the unexpected.

One of the reasons I married Hubs is because he is the most mild-tempered man I have ever met. I could run around the house like a raving lunatic, setting things on fire, and he would laugh the whole time, give me a hug afterward, and tell me “I’m glad you found a constructive way to express your anger.”

(Long story short. That sorta happened, just with less fire).

It’s moments like that, or when we’re in the shower or when we’re dancing in the living room and we just LAUGH. It doesn’t matter if we realized we had less money than we expected that day or if we argued about why the dishes are dirty again—what matters is that we can take one look at each other and laugh. And maybe kiss. But not at the same time. It’s dangerous. We’ve tried.

I live for the moments like when I was sitting up in bed, looking like death, wearing his t-shirt as we just finished reading a chapter of a book together and as he got up to turn out the light, he glanced at me with the biggest, sleep-deprived grin and said:

“Whatever they did to your hair, you didn’t pay them enough. Well, you—actually probably paid them too much but that’s besides the point. They did a good job. No– it’s probably naturally like that so you shouldn’t have paid them at all.”

Oh. Okay dear. Thanks? Nothing like the ramblings of an over-tired, trying to be romantic husband five minutes before midnight as we’re crawling into bed. He may not be Romeo, but I’m quite fond of my “Felix.” (And yes….that would make me Oscar).

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