We Gotta Shake The Love (Just Shake...The Love)

I was married 10 years a couple of days ago.

My spouse and I (looking just as lovely as the day I met her in a club nearly 14 years ago) were enjoying a fine meal (that we couldn't truly afford; if y'all been following this ever so often bullshit that I write, I haven't worked since there was a white guy was in the Oval Office; however, I plan to only have ONE 10 year anniversary being married, so I said screw it), and all around, it was a pretty cool way to celebrate (went to go see a "date movie" that, well, actually was quite funny, not making me feel that my pubic hairs had small cubes of cheese on every strand, and a bunch of hungry rats were having a field day on my crotch).

I placed my arm around my spouse, and she rested her head on my shoulder as we watched our film and chuckled throughout.

It's interesting...u c, once upon a time I used to be a hopeless romantic...the kind that wrote poetry, got flowers, open doors for the woman I was dating (or sleeping with...whatever) and so forth.

Tis the way momma taught moi....you take care of your woman, and ur woman will take care of you.

Always believed that theory...till the summer of 1990. (Not gonna rehash those details, look through the blog history for details). I...well, changed for the worse that day. I mean, yeah, I still try to show my spouse that she is not just the cat's meow, she's the damned voice box, but some of the joy that I got (not all of it, mind you; I still try to wow my lady with the things I do or give her) is gone.

Now, marriage is definitely a lot of work...and for those who know me, I'd rather sip a Pina Colada (and get caught in the rain...dum dum dum dum) than work. But it's one of the few jobs that the benefits outweigh (even tho at times, barely...on both ends, just to be fair) the bullshit that comes along with it.

But all relationships of a romantic nature seem to apply to that sort of rule, it seems. And it just came to me that, well, folks just ain't trying to get into each other's drawers (or hearts, for that matter) like they were when they first started dating, or right after they said "I Do (promise to deal with each other's crap, hoping it is in the minority of the time we'll spend together)"
on their wedding day.

I mean, let's face it...a lot of folks, after some time, tend to settle into routine crap...

"Going to work Honey"

"Ok, have a good day."

(perhaps u give the spouse a kiss, perhaps you don't...depends on the halitosis that time of the morning).

A few years later...

"Leaving...bye!"

(a forced smile follows)

Door closes.

Now, back in the day....

Ya held hands.

You held the door open.

You couldn't stop talking about each other to ur friends.

Guys, u got hummers on a regular basis (yea, piggish, but I have to keep it real, folks).

Ultimately, you made sure that you let that person know that your partner was the most important thing to you on the earth (even put mom and dad in the "1A" slot if you think you found the "one").

Folks who are together for a long time (or r married), once they think it's 'safe" (i.e. they got the other person in their pocket), simply go on cruise control.

Christmas presents? Ya go with the safe choice just so you don't look like an ass.

When's the last time you actually sat down, paid attention to an item your woman was staring at (with that long line of spit barely not hitting the floor), and you immediately start trying to figure out how many pints of blood u need to sell to get it for her?

Valentine's Day isn't about the love...it's about the feeling of obligation.

And selfishly hoping you get some.

Couples sit there and watch TV, while the kids are acting the fool, and you just sort of work through the motions. You don't make the extra effort you made when you were trying to capture each other's hearts...

...and u wonder why the dude who works out w/your spouse feels his crotch getting hot cuz ur woman wants to test her gag reflex.

Or you man wants to tap the secretary like a beer draft.

Yeah...eventually we all (if we r lucky) get old, fat, ugly, and so forth. Physical looks, while awesome (hell, I trip on these teenagers who r built like porn stars...and dress like one, at times...fill out by 12 years old) fade like milk 3 days past its sale date. But in my case, despite some of the avoidable "staleness" that creeps into every marriage, still think my woman, despite all of the little things that may irritate me about her, is just as beautiful as our wedding day...

...even as some gray is creeping into her hair, and I am afraid she's gonna get her mom's fro from the '80s.

Relationships, right under parenthood, is a big time job...and you gotta water that bitch. Tell ur man that he's still hot...even if he is lookin' more and more like Buddha every day. If your woman looks like she's been gang-banged by 10 teenagers with large penises (u know the hairstyle i'm talking about) , still give her a kiss as if she was that hot 21 year old you saw at the supermarket last Tuesday.

I mean, if you figure you would b bored with the person you are with, whether it's for a couple of years or until one of u r ready for the worm fest we'll all become (disclaimer for those who choose the bag and bake exit of cremation), u should remain a male slut or a female whore (or switch the insults as you see fit).

Marriage and commitment are dirty words in today's world, it seems.

But dating is a female dog or anal crevice...while yeah, the thrill of the chase is awesome...the heartbreak just isn't worth it.

And if u like the thrills...put in the energy of keeping that love fresh.

Or...in the words of an '80s classic:

Shake your Love.

You've got to shake your love.

Shake your love.

You've got to shake...your love.

Thanks Debbie Gibson...not bad for a Staten Island chick.