Itches of the 7, 14, and 21-year variety

Firstly, not like that, perv. Secondly, I'm a big believer in itches. The idea that after you've been in a relationship for several years you might want a change of pace seems pretty natural. The key, I think, is how you put this energy to use and whether the results from that are positive or negative.

Fourteen years ago I scratched an itch and broke up with one girlfriend and not long after met a woman who completely took my breath away (and I haven't breathed since); regardless of how 'out of my league' she was or how completely backwards I was, she stood by me and we muddled our way through until I was at least passable as a human. To this day I have *NO* idea why she didn't go off and find someone who was a little less of a fixer-upper. But now, of course, she's stuck with me and can't run off because she's invested too damn much work in me. Ahh, the blessings of human inertia.

Seven years ago or thereabouts we had our first child and the earth shook beneath us. Before, we were two separate people revolving in opposing orbits. We were together and yet not REALLY together. To the outside eye we were one person but there was little holding us together except legality and a common mortgage payment. After our first child, suddenly there was this whole other center around which to revolve and after some complicated adjustment we tightened our orbits and in time came to love each other like never before.

Today... well, you've seen the latest itch in crazy detail. You've heard enough about it over the last month to want to vomit so I'll not repeat it. The point, I guess, is that there went another seven. I think the main point that came from all that scratching is that while marriage is a thing I'd never disparage, it's not everything. No matter how much my wife and I may enjoy gazing into each other's eyes, it gets extremely old after we're stuck with only each other and the kids for company for two weeks. She needs to get back to school and all her outside inputs as much as I need to get back to mine. It doesn't mean we love each other any less, only that we still can't do without the rest of the planet.

So now that that's apparently over, I think it's time to make plans for seven years from now. So far, my plan is to celebrate my 42nd birthday (That's DDA - Double Drinking Age) by having a shot of whiskey. It seems an appropriate first drink for a 42-year-old man.