5 Years of Chess

My wife and I are one of those couples of which you hear people say, “If they can make it, anybody can.” Like magnets of a similar polarity our being together defies the laws of nature itself. I used to be jealous of couples who have everything in common and an easy go of marriage; passing the time without contention as all their moments together are filled with an air of pleasant ease. I would ask myself, what are they doing that we are not, to make it seem so easy? My conclusion, nothing; they were just born that way. Some combinations just have to work harder than others. And my feelings about that fact are ambiguous because I have also concluded that our relationship is a great benefit to all contrasting personalities that become entwined in the bonds of matrimony. An observation of our lives provides the observer with an opportunity for growth and education that just can’t be gleaned from those “perfect” couples.

My wife’s sister and her husband, whom we occasionally tease because of how easy AND cheesy their relationship sometimes seems, do not know contention or difficulty and if they did ever have an argument it would sound something like this:

Him: “I love you.”
Her: “I love you more.”
Him: “No, I love you more.”
Her: “No, I love you more.”
Him: “Nuh-uh. I do.”
Her: (affectionately) “Oh honey, I’m sorry for arguing.”
Him: (passionately) “By golly, your peace-making gets me hot.”
(kiss kiss kiss hug hug kiss kiss)
Him: “Go sit down right now! I’m rubbing your feet.”
Her: “Not before I rub yours.”

Not that my wife and I haven’t enjoyed similar exchanges, but ours sounded more like this:

Her: “I love you.”
Me: “I love you more.”
Her: “Yeah, you’re probably right. Now rub my feet!”

Allow me to explain why I’ve been thinking about this.
Before marriage I was one of those idealistic romantics that thought marriage came as a packaged challenge, like a video game, and all people experienced that game at the same level of difficultly. It was supposed to be like Super Mario Brothers on Nintendo. (My choice of metaphor should illustrate how long it’s been since I’ve played video games.) Everyone would have to advance through the same levels to progress to the end and save the princess, which, in this analogy, would represent mastering the art of marriage and never experiencing a hint of trouble again. However, after a few years of marriage and a large amount of interaction with other married couples I learned this is not the case. It is more like playing chess against your computer, but instead of being able to pick which level you wish to begin (beginner, intermediate, or advanced), the computer chooses the level for you.

Let’s stick with this analogy a moment. Once I entered adolescence I began to notice that I liked computers. I knew I liked them but at the same time was fully aware of my incompetence when it came to their inner workings (both hardware and software). I did not understand them and visa versa. Still, I enjoyed being with computers; it felt good. By my mid-twenties I had some limited experience with computers. I used them to type papers for school, checked the occasional email, and searched the net on a very shallow basis. Beyond that I was pretty much computer illiterate. Also, I had always been aware that there were some men out there who were quite well versed in the binary language and some of these men were so familiar with computers that they started playing a game called chess with them. From what they described, chess was a difficult game, but one well worth playing. As it turned out, the levels of success and happiness these men were having at playing their various computers at chess were varied and irregular. Some of them loved the game vowing to never play any other games with any other computers ever again, while some of them didn’t take to the game of chess as well as they thought they might and they gave up and went back to using computers on a limited basis. Some men attempted to trade in their old computers hoping to secure a newer model while they, the men, were still young enough to understand and use new technology. And still some men got angry with their computers claiming their computers were cheating at the game and that it was too hard. “I’ll never play chess again. It costs too much both monetarily and emotionally,” they would say. Some of these men even threw their computers out, and then screamed at them from the window while throwing the computer’s belongings into the street. That said, I was always intrigued with the prospect of one day playing chess with some special computer. And then one day that opportunity presented itself. I had been working with a certain computer for about six months, felt comfortable with it and decided to become a chess player. When I began my game I naïvely thought the computer would start out easy, helping me understand what to do along the way. I told the computer that I wanted to start at the beginner level but to my surprise it said “No. I only play advanced.”
“But I don’t want to play at the advanced level yet. I’m just a beginner.” I explained.
“Well too bad. It’s your own damn fault for asking me to play with you.” It said with finality. And that was that. I was now stuck in a game I barely understood for what was supposed to be forever.

After hearing this analogy some people might say that the energy we’ve had to expend to stay happily married could have been saved had we chosen people more compatible to ourselves in the first place. And to them I say, that it is a moot point since my wife is the girl I fell head-over-heels in love with and when it comes to these types of dilemmas the mind is ill equipped to do battle with the heart. I think our relationship is that much better AND stronger due to the energy we've put into it. Somethings are worth fighting for, and the love of your life should be one of them.

We just celebrated our five-year anniversary this past Friday (Oct. 12th). Wars have been fought, educational degrees have been declared and completed, and hundreds of Hollywood relationships have been born and expired in less time, but it is only the beginning. There will be plenty of time for other young, struggling, passionate couples to look to us and say - “If they can make it, we can too.”