The Brazilian

Occasionally I am asked - usually by young girls with stars in their eyes - what is the secret to sustaining a twenty year marriage. Depending on my mood, I may stammer something about stubbornness or spite or maybe try to explain my theories on pheromones, neural plasticity, and chemical bonding. But, in truth, I am just as surprised as anyone at the longevity of my relationship and I often sit stunned with slack-jawed awe as I reflect on all of our travails and adventures.

If pressed further, I am forced to conclude that the simple reason for the success of our marriage is that we have fun together. Our type of fun is certainly not for everyone, but it suits us perfectly. We spend most of our time playing together, telling private jokes and sharing secrets.

For example, last night, I drew a hot perfumed bath and littered the bathroom with candles, dozens and dozens of them on every surface. It was breath-takingly romantic and we soaked away the cares of the week in luminous bliss.

But all it takes is one little misstep to drastically alter the mood of the evening!

Twenty minutes later - after I put out the small fire in the bathroom - and after I had recovered from the peals of gut wrenching laughter that gripped my mid-section - and after Kevin stopped running up and down the hallway yelling "Ow! My Balls!" - but not until I got permission to relate this anecdote to my blogging audience - I tenderly, yet sardonically, performed the sort of ministrations that bond lovers together.

And make for great stories to tell his boss at the next company Christmas party.