Marriage & Midnight Spiders

From the peaceful dreamland of my slumber, I am awakened with a shove. Then comes the frantic shouts of my husband, “Get up! Jen, get up!”

“What?”

I must say it half a dozen times, with increasing indignation, as my confused mind tries to process.

“There’s a huge spider! Get up!” he shouts at me. He flips on the assaultingly-bright light. I squint at him; look at the clock; 2 AM. I climb out of the bed.

Standing there as he flips back the covers, I say, “It was dark, you didn’t see a spider.” My reply is surprisingly rational but less confident than is warranted.

Not sure if I am angry, scared, or just really confused, I walk out of the room to go to the bathroom and I listen to him continue to rummage through the blankets and shift the mattress around until he finally wakes up enough to let go of the dream. I see the bedroom light go back off. He is realizing the insanity of what just transpired.

I get back in bed, only slightly afraid a massive tarantula is going to eat my face in my sleep.

Living with someone is strange. We have been married for nearly 10 years now, and it’s still strange.

The shared spaces, the exposure, the honesty… someone next to you, farting in your bed… someone always next to you, getting ready for a date side-by-side with the person you’re going on the date with, bathroom doors left open, conversations from the toilet… conversations run dry. The surprises; the lack of surprise. The friendship. The understanding… the not understanding; the forgiveness. The companionship. The trust.

The love that puts up with middle-of-the-night spider hunts and laughs about it together in the morning.

The love that endures all the strange and shines brighter than all the follies and faults - the love of a marriage.