Ode to the Seven-Year Itch



I’m not sure if I read it in a book or if I heard somebody expound on it. Accordingly, the seven-year itch is a stage wherein couples, at around the seventh year of marriage, feel tired of each other, probably bored with the marriage routine and therefore would want (or itch) for activities independent of each other or outside of the marriage. It is the seventh year of our marriage. We now have a new house, a precocious kindergarten student of a daughter and a (literally) bouncing baby boy. Where’s the itch?

I started to fall in love with him because of our nightly conversations on the phone. We can talk about anything under the sun, and yes, even about the stars and black holes. He has many interests ranging from photography to cooking to 4x4 vehicles and computers. The way he talks and communicates his ideas shows a keen mind that is not at all stagnant. We share a common love for books. We can discuss for hours on end about books we have read and about the ideas these books expound. He reads more science fiction while I read more on general adult fiction. He reads more on Chinese cultural and heritage books while I read more on child development. Each of us has our favorite authors. He introduced C.S. Lewis, Isaac Asimov and Asiapac books to me while I showed him the books of JRR Tolkien, Madeline L’Engle Scott O Dell and the Newbery-awarded books. We have broadened our horizons as we read more. Somehow reading his books gave me a peek of what his mind contains. Until now, I am still itching to know him more.

I fell in love with him because he is transparent with me. And I like what I see. Even when he was courting me, he was open and honest. I’ve heard people say that men put their best foot forward during the courtship stage and their personality changes after the wedding and honeymoon. In our case, he didn’t change at all. After seven years, he is still the same caring, loving, generous and patient man who courted me. We didn’t even have an adjustment period after the wedding. That is not to say we do not have any “toothpaste tube” differences. It was only after we got married when I discovered that he leaves his clothes on the floor instead of hanging them up. It was after the wedding when I learned that he uses a minimum of five towels a day. But for me, those are petty little things and not major personality changes so I don’t really mind at all. I’m sure I do have my own peculiarities, too. After seven years, he still closes the doors (to keep out the mosquitoes) while I still leave them open (to let air circulate around the house.) I am very happy to have accepted his little idiosyncrasies as he has learned to live with mine.

I was sure God gave him to me as my husband, my partner for life because he led me closer to God. When he was courting me, he will insist on bringing me to church every Sunday. From Cubao, he will fetch me from Malabon and we will go to church in Manila. That means he had to wake up very very early on Sunday mornings. On his visits, he will be my Bible study leader. We have gone through Survival Kit 1 and 2 together. We would read Christian books together and discuss the books as part of our Bible Study. None of the men who courted me did anything like this. I appreciate his concern for my spiritual growth. I’m itching for us to grow together in Christ.

After seven years, I still love his eyes. If I stare at his eyes, I get lost in them. They’re the most wonderful pair of eyes I’ve ever seen. And I’m so elated that my first-born got those eyes. Big round eyes with deep folds so untypical of the Chinese chinky heritage. I wonder where he got those eyes. His parents certainly don’t have them. And his skin is so nice to touch. His shoulders, ahh, I find very sexy and his scent, hmmm… I still want to get his scent every time we hug. I’m so happy we still have our “good morning hug” everyday. The phrase “Our pheromones are working overtime.” Has been our favorite because the pheromones (that which makes our scent attractive to our mate) is supposed to be effective around seven years too. But see? I’m still itching to be physically intimate with him.

I sure do love the way he’s a Daddy to the children. He doesn’t feed them or give them a bath. He doesn’t even want to change soiled diapers. But I like the way he rocks the baby to sleep. The baby seems to sleep longer and more peacefully than if I had been the one to put him to bed. I am very happy that he brings the daughter to school personally. Not only does he bring the girl to school, he goes with her to her classroom on the second floor, leave her bag on her desk, brings her to the toilet first before bringing her back to class. I don’t think any other daddy would do that. He’s also Doctor Daddy. I appreciate it when he puts ointments on the children’s insect bites. I also appreciate it when he massages the baby’s tummy when the little one is colicky. I don’t know how he does it but somehow after 15 to 30 minutes of his magic hands, the baby is more willing to finish his bottle. My hands are itching to award him a medal that says “best Daddy in the world.”

I like the way he shows concern for me. Even if he has a million things to do in the office, he would offer to fetch the girl from school so that I can rest. I remember he would hold my feet when they are cold, though he doesn’t do that much nowadays. He would offer to take care of the baby if I have other things to do. He’s also my in-house fashion consultant. If you like the way I dress, please give the credits to him. He has a sense of style and color that I don’t have. Needless to say, he buys his own clothes and he buys mine as well. How many husbands do you know who shops for their wives? In the beginning, I didn't give him my body size or specifications. But he always buys the right size even right down to my underwear. When I ask him how he knows, he just says that he’s my husband. He Knows my body. I should blush.

I like his sense of responsibility and integrity and fairness towards other people. Whereas I may be more emotional in my judgement, he is more logical and fair. For example, even if he does not like an employee’s character or personality, he will give this employee a salary raise that is due him since there is nothing to complain about regarding the employee’s performance. I confess I might have considered delaying the raise. Sometimes he is too focused on finishing his work in the office that he would be late and we could not meet doctor’s appointments or other engagements. Oftentimes I feel disappointed when these things happen but when I look back, I understand what our proper priority should be.

I admire him because he is confident enough to tell people that I am smarter than he is, even if that’s Not true. I am confident to do things because he supports me and he pushes me to excel. He would push me to pursue another interest. He would push me to try something new – like how to fire a gun, go drive a truck, join an off-road rally, how to ride a bike or even swimming (which I hate very much.) He shows me how to behave in a more socially mature manner. He encourages me to grow even if I am complacent enough to be just as I am now.

My heart swells with pride whenever I hear people say that he looks like a doctor. The principal of the daughter’s school thought he is a doctor when they first met. Even in hospitals when he just visits a patient – friend, nurses think he is one. The daughter’s teachers think he is a pastor or at least he acts like one. It’s hard to be humble when you are proud of your mate. So I stumble for answers.

I appreciate his patience with me. He puts up with my temper and argues so logically and oh-so-reasonably that in the end, it seems like I should not have any reason to be angry at all. (Even if a while ago, my anger seemed so justified.) He puts up with my forgetfulness and what he calls lack of presence of mind. Sometimes he gets angry because he could not believe the degree and extent of my forgetfulness. That’s why he just labels these episodes as lack of presence of mind on my part. For instance, one day I used his towel to dry the baby. I promised him I would get him a new towel after I finished with the baby. So, I went to the baby’s room, dried the baby, put on his shirt and diaper, went to the daughter’s room, left the baby in the playpen and requested the daughter to watch over the baby. I went back to our room. I was about to get the towel when I was distracted by the noise outside the window. After checking out the source of the noise, as I was going back to the cabinet, I totally forgot what I was about to get or even what I was doing there. I truly, honest-to-goodness forgot why I came back to our room. Funny or pathetic? I sat down on the bed, recollecting the events, as I usually do when I forget. It was until his head pop out of the shower room when I remembered. To be fair, he didn’t get angry in this instance. (He was angry I didn't apologize.) He said, why didn’t I think along the lines of ‘why was there somebody in the bathroom and what is that person doing there, and what might that person need?’ He said that if only I noticed somebody was in the bathroom, I could put two and two together, if only I had the presence of mind. See? He even tries so solve the problem of my forgetfulness through logical thinking.

After seven years, I still feel loved and cherished. Of course there are times when he has problems or when he is tired, he generally does not pay attention to me. During those off-moments, he does not even listen to what I say. But he always makes it up. After he is through with that phase, he will pay extra attention to me, help me do chores, and be very sweet and caring than usual. After seven years, he still shows me that I am a priority for him. For instance, when I was so depressed one day, he took time to come home early and bring me bowling, which relieves stress for me. I appreciate that, and the simple thoughtfulness showed that he still cares. He makes our date nights a priority. Sometimes we have earlier agreed on a date, but sometimes, it’s a surprise. Even the venue is a surprise. The spontaneity of it all makes the date even better. He still showers me with compliments. Whether true or not, it still does wonders to my ego.

At my parents’ house, its my dad who locks all the doors and windows at night. He goes around the house and checks each room if there’s any lights on or any faucet running, or any appliance still turned on. We, the children go to bed secure with the thought that everything is safe and sound. At his parents’ house, his mom does all the work. When we got married, I thought he’s going to take care of the security and he thought I should be the one to take care of it. More often than not, we would already be in bed and I would ask him if he locked the doors yet. Almost always, the answer is no. I had to get up and do it myself since I’m the obsessive half of this partnership. After seven years, I’m still the one who checks security at night. I was very happy when we moved to the new house. He began to help. The first few months were okay; but now, he forgets to check once in a while. And when I do close the garage door before I go to sleep, which is quite late at night, he has the temerity to tell me that the neighbors will be disturbed by the noise. The garage door does create a racket heard a mile away if it is being moved. So what? Do I leave it open just because nobody bothered to close it earlier? When this happens, I would be itching to wring his neck.

When he is angry, thou shalt not touch him. He does not shout or become violent. When he is angry or concerned with problems in his office or his family, he just doesn’t talk. But it shows in his face; and sometimes in his interaction with the children and me, he’s more short-tempered than usual. When I attempt to soothe him, he shoves me away. He says he can handle it, he just needs to think things through, that it does not concern me, etc. These are times I’m itching to comfort him. But that’s not his way, so I back off and try to give him space. I read that men from mars are like that.

When I do something wrong, sigh, I will not hear the end of it. For example, I’ve cooked the vegetables too salty or too wilted. From the minute we start eating until the minute I leave the table after we’ve finished eating, he will talk non-stop. I wonder if he notice that I eat faster when he’s in this mode. Another example is that three weeks after the baby got sick and got well, he still blames me for my failure to check the cause of the baby’s sickness. The funny thing is, he says he’s not a nagger. I roll my eyes. He says I just don’t take criticisms positively, that I’m too defensive. Oh really? Maybe we should get a fair judge. Why does he repeat these issues incessantly and after a period of time at that? He still says he’s not a nagger, that I just don’t listen to him, that I don’t do what he says and always contradict him. I say that’s not true. He looks at me. Didn’t I just contradict him?

Oh Yes! He is exasperatingly contradictory and inconsistent. One time, I was so tired I instructed the maid to wash the vegetable for me to cook. It was the Chinese watercress. Of course, the maid, being unfamiliar with it, made a poor job out of it. He told me that I should wash it myself. The day before when he cooked our soup, he washed the vegetables himself. After a week, I was washing the watercress myself even if I had other things to do and I was so tired already. He told me that I should let the maid do it. He asked why I had to these little things personally, that I don’t delegate enough which is why I was so tired at the end of the day. Tell me, which instruction should I follow?

He hates the way I manage the refrigerator, or rather mismanage it. After seven years, he still asks me when I bought the food I serve him. He suspects that piece of pork might be a month old. I have improved on my control on the raw food, though. I just don’t buy anything until the freezer contents have run out. The cooked leftover foods are another matter. Often times, I don’t want to throw away the leftovers. Seemed like a big waste. So what happens is they get accumulated and well, they rot after a while. He always tells me that the refrigerator does not promise immortality – for the foods, that is. Either I eat the leftovers or I throw them out. Or else the other good food, and even the raw food might be contaminated. So now, I’m trying to clean out the refrigerator at least once a week. After seven years, I don’t know why I still have this bad habit. I’m sure he’s itching to slap my face silly whenever he smells something funny inside the refrigerator.

After seven years, I can say that our marriage can debunk that seven-year itch theory. After all, a theory is just that – a theory. Ours is a living happy, funny, loving, generous, warm reality. It has its ups and downs but we don’t make the downs get to us. We try to understand each other, see things from each other’s point of view. We try to make time for each other and consciously acknowledge that we are each other’s priority next to God. After seven years, we still try to please each other and make each other happy. We try to do things together, and plan the future together. We talk and talk all the time and still are the best of friends. We have this kind of marriage because that’s how we want it to be and make it to be. And we thank God and praise God so much for this blessing called marriage.