Most relationship experts would tell you that a relationship founded on blatant lies and Facebook stalking won't last more than a month or two. As of Tuesday, I have eight years that prove those experts wrong.
Really, this story starts 10 years ago, when I was looking for a nice guy to take me to dinner. Seriously, I wasn't looking for marriage or even a boyfriend, I just wanted somebody to pick up the tab at Mr. Friendly's every now and then. So, I did what any girl would do- I set my sights on a guy and I made a plan. You should know, this plan involved crashing a Sunday school oyster roast, strategically placing myself beside the chosen one at the oyster table, and then telling him the biggest whopper I've concocted in my adult life.
If you will recall from a previous post, my mom always told me I didn't let guys help me enough, so I decided this would be the perfect time to see if she was right. In order to give Alex the opportunity to be my knight in shining armor, I became the girl who didn't know how to shuck oysters, when in reality, I was the girl who had been shucking 'em at Nance's in Murrell's Inlet for as long as I could remember. Alex fell for my desperate (fabricated) plea for help hook, line, and sinker, and being the gallant gentleman that he is, proceeded to give me an in-depth lesson on the art of opening oysters.
The next week, I started my Facebook page with the sole purpose of sending Alex a message thanking him for sharing his expertise. We exchanged some witty banter, and a month or so later, he asked me out. The rest, as they say, is history.
Over the past eight years, Alex and I have learned a lot about marriage. As it turns out, it's a lot like that oyster roast we went to all those years ago.
For starters, oyster roasts and marriages require the right tools to get the job done. For an oyster roast, you need a steam pot, oyster knives, gloves, towels, and a table with a hole in the middle. For a marriage, a few tools that come in handy are patience, a sense of humor, trust, and romance, courtesy of those oysters, perhaps.
I've noticed one big difference between the tools though- you usually start an oyster roast with all of your tools set up and ready to go, whereas in a marriage, you are continually enhancing your tools and even adding more to your toolbox. It takes a lot of trial and error to learn how to use the tools the right way, and sometimes you rely on one tool more than the others, depending on what your relationship is facing. Without a doubt, I have grown and learned more about myself in the past eight years of marriage than I did in the first 31 years of my life.
Anyone who has been to an oyster roast knows shucking oysters requires some serious work. Marriage is no different. If I'm being completely honest, I wasn't really prepared for how much work it takes to get to the good part. Love is as much a verb as it is a noun, and growing and nurturing a marriage is where the action comes into play. An oyster can't shuck itself; neither can a marriage reveal all it has to offer without some effort and attention.
Shucking oysters isn't a fast process- you have to take your time and be patient to get that shell open, but once you get to the delicious oyster, you know the work was worth it. Some oysters steam open perfectly, making them easy to pry apart, while others require a whole lot of poking and prodding. I think years in a marriage are like that- some years go along without a hitch, while others include challenges that require a little more work, a little more patience. The key is to keep working at it until you get to the good part.
When it's finally time to eat the oysters, everybody eats them differently. Some people like them raw, straight out of the shell. Some people like them on a saltine with a splash of hot sauce. Some people like them dipped in cocktail sauce. Diff'rent strokes for diff'rent folks.
Marriage works the same way. Nobody's is the same as anybody else's, and what works for one couple may not work for another. You can't judge another couple's marriage by your own, and it's a waste of time to try to make your marriage a carbon copy of someone else's. Sure, we can always learn from each other, but too much comparing can make you lose sight of the good thing you already have right in front of you.
My favorite part of an oyster roast is the atmosphere- everyone is laid back, just chatting, laughing, and telling stories around the oyster table. Plus, everybody is quick to give props to the guy manning the oyster pot, praising and thanking him as he dumps pot after pot of steamy, hot oysters on the table.
And that's the biggest thing I've learned about marriage- communication and praise are the most important tools we bring to the table. At that first oyster roast, I laid it on thick, praising Alex's deft, if not methodical, skill with the oyster knife, suppressing my overwhelming desire to rip the oyster out of his hands and yell, "Just give it to me; I know how to do it!" (Thankfully, I was smart enough to know that an outburst like that would probably sabotage my plan.)
But seriously, it's important to to show appreciation for your spouse's skills and talents. The world is full of enough people ready to knock you down and tell you you're wrong. Be the person who is there to lift the other one up. Be the cheerleader, the fan girl, or whatever else you call it- just support each other. And the talents don't have to be super huge or impressive. Alex always takes one for the team and cleans out the absolutely disgusting vacuum canister without flinching, and I give him a high five every single time.
While Alex does have many talents, reading minds isn't one of them. When we first got married, I thought that as my husband, he should just automatically know everything I needed and wanted without any sort of hint. When he didn't quite get it right, I would get angry, saying he didn't really "know me." So melodramatic, right? I finally realized that philosophy was totally unfair of me. How could I expect him to know what I needed if I wasn't willing to actually communicate my desires, my frustrations, and my joys?
Alex and I have come a long way in the past eight years. I'm proud to say I'm much better about telling the truth now . . . except when it comes to ironing- I still pretend like I don't know how to do that . . . but don't tell Alex!
Our marriage isn't perfect by any means- we have had plenty of grains of irritating sand rub one or both of us the wrong way. We've had to work together to turn those rough spots into pearls, and I know we will continue to have to add layers to our relationship. My hope, though, is that we will continue to work and communicate so that in 50 years or so, we can look back and see that together, we made a beautiful strand of pearls.
Because that's the thing about an oyster roast . . . it's not just about one oyster, it's about the whole experience.
