George and I have been married a long time. So long, in fact, when anyone asks George how long we’ve been married, he gets a faraway look in his eyes and exclaims, “40 years!” We’re one of the last couples in our group of friends — everyone else is either divorced, dead or in jail. We like to joke and say we’ve emotionally damaged one another to the point that no one else would ever have us, so we stick together to avoid dying alone. But that’s totally a joke – ha ha – see, I’m laughing on the inside, never mind the hysterical tears on the outside.
All kidding aside, we’re actually very lucky to have a lasting relationship. This industry is hard on families. Hell, life in general is hard on the family unit anymore. As hard as being away from one another is, it’s sometimes equally as hard to be together. I don’t know of a lot of scenarios where the husband and wife are side by side, within an eight-foot square, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I don’t care how much you love each other — that business gets old.
I’m a firm believer in the “you can share too much” notion. There are simply things couples don’t need to know about one another. We were married for almost 20 years before he realized I paid to have my hair done. He probably would have never known if I hadn’t been preparing for home time by reciting the budget out loud.
“Let’s see, I need to set aside a hundred dollars for my hair…”
“A HUNDRED DOLLARS? What the hell are you having done to it?”
“She makes it a color that I can’t grow on my own. I think that’s worth a hundred dollars.”
