My wife and I have what you might call a passionate relationship, and I don’t mean passionate as a euphemism for all the good stuff. I mean it as a euphemism for all the bad stuff.
All marriages have bad stuff; it’s why the person that marries you says all those things about “poorer” and “sickness.” A sort of karmic waiver letting you know it’s going to suck at some point. (I hope that’s the point; otherwise all that talk of poverty and disease would be a serious buzzkill in an otherwise happy day.)
When my wife and I have the euphemistic bad stuff we go at it with vigor. We knew this when we got married, of course. It’s not like you get hitched and all of the sudden wake up and get torqued. But whereas some marriages get the regular passion on the wedding night, my wife got “passionate” right there at our wedding. Refusing to listen to the officiant until she’d read what he planned to say, she brought our wedding to a halt. For the complete article see the 01-16-2013 issue.
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