My mother called this morning to tell me my cousin is getting divorced.

Again.

Whatever happened to staying with someone until somebody dies?

True, if you read some of the not-so-modern uplifting authors like Lillian Helman or Eudora Weltly, patiently enduring is more of a virtue than the notion of marrying for the romantic ideals found in that Barbara Cartland fluff. Real life does not involve one kiss, whispered "I love you"s and happily ever after. And the sooner young girls get that idiotic notion knocked out of their skulls, the better off they'll be.

Romance has almost nothing to do with real day-to-day love that you have to slog through to stay mostly happily married to someone. Romance says, "To hell with laundry, I will buy you new socks every day! And we break the glasses after one sip so that no greater toast may be made upon them!" Romance doesn't need any clothes that don't make you look better- if it needs any clothes at all.

But romance doesn't sweep up the broken glass shards, or pay the credit card bills, or pinch or hurt in uncomfortable clothes. That's what you have to do every day- whether romance urges or not.

It's love that puts up with smelly socks and stained undies, and the pile of dishes abandoned in odd corners, and the snoring, the insults about your mother or other people you like and he doesn't, the cleaning up after the sickness, and all of the million tiny little things that peck away at the daily grind of living. It's like that one proverb I like: "Before war, there is washing dishes and chopping wood. After War, there is washing dishes and chopping wood." Love helps you wash dishes and chop wood. Romance doesn't need to bother.

My cousin thinks Romance should last through marriage. It can't. Not unless you win the lottery too. One must be content with the occassional smile or compliment, the casual kiss on the cheek as you walk by. The long term lasting is built on the foundation of cleaned socks and washed dishes, and paid bills. I will never get my cousin to understand this.

Of course, I do enjoy the patiently waiting for the other person to die. But that's more of a contest of wills. I will miss him when he is gone, of course. But sometimes, I still miss him while he is here.  ¶ 5:09 AM