Marriage counselor

There’s a typical narrative about marriage: Throughout time, people who originally loved each other somehow run out of steam. Throughout the years, they morph from a caring couple into distant and uncomfortable housemates.

Raising children, they become business partners focused on the same taxing enterprise.

I don’t know how accurate that story is, but one thing is for sure: A lot of marriages fall apart. Though the widely heralded “50 percent divorce rate” has been shown to be based on statistical flaws, many partners go their separate ways.

No one knows how many married couples keep the legal knot tied even after separating.

I don’t normally dish out relationship advice. This is because I tend not to worry about other people’s relationships.

You won’t find me sentimentally lamenting divorce: Some people are better apart. If two people are going to make a relationship work, they’re probably the only ones who will be able to sort through all the emotions and details.

Adults, I assume, know what works best for them.

But this week, I strangely and suddenly found myself in need of a marriage counselor.  

Being roommates with your best friend can be a lot like a marriage. Because there are less societal pressures to keep the relationship functional, it can quickly come to resemble the distant peers we so often imagine long-term married couples to be.

Between homework and different friend groups, it’s easy to start leading two separate lives. Since neither of us are morning people, bumping into each other at 8:45 a.m. while eating a bowl of cereal is more often an occasion for antipathy than good feeling.

Sometime in between jostling for spots in the bathroom and telling each other good night before passing out writing another paper, we’d forgotten what was most important about each other.

I felt snubbed by a lack of conversation, and she wished I were more perceptive in conversation.

When it came to actually confronting a relationship problem of my own, I was nothing like the self-reliant adult I’d always imagined I’d be. Pressed for time and emotionally exhausted, there seemed to be little more that either of us could contribute to the relationship.

So we started thinking like a marriage counselor. Somehow, we had to escape the emotionally deadening routine of our daily lives. Like the stressed owners of a marriage certificate, we had to make time to go on a date.

We needed to see each other from eyes not stained by the daily grind.

It can be embarrassing to follow somewhat stereotypical advice, but the solution meant that after a few tense moments and some professions of mutual love, we were back on the same page.

What page exactly?

One that tells us how to live happily or never hurt the other person? Unfortunately neither of us have reached that level of enlightenment yet. But at least we got another lesson in how to apologize and forgive. So next time we screw up, maybe it will be a little easier.


E-mail: wallacen@indiana.edu