DIARY OF A MARRIAGE: WHEN THE WIFE’S AWAY, THE HUSBAND WILL PLAYTurns out J. is looking forward to some all-by-himself-guy-time when I’m away.Posted by Emily Goulet on 5/9/2012 at 10:46AM | 4 Comments
 Jupiterimages When J. and I were out with another couple last weekend, we mentioned that I’d be leaving for a getaway with some girlfriends in a few days. Our friend Joe’s eyes lit up. “You’re going to be alone for four whole days?” he asked J. incredulously. J. nodded. “Yup.” Joe looked excited for him, like the world was suddenly full of possibility. As soon as J. and I got home, I wheeled on him. |
DIARY OF A MARRIAGE: A HUSBAND-FREE GIRLS’ TRIP.When it comes to getaways, sometimes you just need to leave the husband at home.Posted by Emily Goulet on 5/3/2012 at 8:47AM | 6 Comments
 Jupiterimages When my college girlfriends and I first talked about turning 30, we did so in dorm rooms, drinking cheap vodka and waving it off the way we did marriage and having kids and getting real jobs: It would happen, eventually. And when it did, we decided, we’d take a vacation together. |
DIARY OF A MARRIAGE: THE COMPROMISING COUPLEWhen I decided to take up a new hobby, it meant me spending more money—and less time with J. Here’s how it ended up bringing us closer together.Posted by Emily Goulet on 4/25/2012 at 5:55PM | 4 Comments
 iStockphoto I remember when, a few years ago, I decided to join the gym. I had visions of myself going every night after work, becoming friends with my fellow gym-goers, and sculpting my body into a taught, toned work of art. Cut to three months later, as I sat in my office on the phone with said gym, desperately trying to quit. The peppy gym lady tried to convince me that I’d just hit a plateau and that I should just stick with it (had I tried the new aerobics class?). Then she broke out the big guns and reminded me that I’d actually signed up for a yearly contract, which would cost me about $300 to break. I remember saying, through huge bites of my egg and cheese sandwich, that it wasn’t personal; I actually didn’t really like gyms in general really, I’d just really like to quit the gym. I ended up forking over $300 just to break the contract. |
DIARY OF A MARRIAGE: THE COMFORTABLE SILENCEWhen it comes to keeping up conversation in a marriage, is silence really golden?Posted by Emily Goulet on 4/20/2012 at 12:51PM | 4 Comments
 Stockbyte J. and I were sitting in a restaurant a few weeks ago. We’d both ordered our food and we sat quietly sipping our drinks. We were settled in a companionable silence, but still, it was a silence nonetheless. I threw a glance around the dining room and I noticed exactly what I was afraid of noticing: other couples happily chatting. I looked back at J. and began mentally ticking off our list of topics: We’d discussed work, friends, friends of friends, my family, his family, sports, the election (but only as it relates to my relationship with my staunchly Republican parents), celebrity news, how we’ll raise the kids we don’t want yet, finances (but only as it relates to my shopping habit), and vacation plans. There was exactly nothing left to say. |
DIARY OF A MARRIAGE: DIARY OF A WIMPY WIFEWhen J.’s sick, he’s vulnerable and cute. When I’m sick, I’m, well, annoying. And highly dramatic.Posted by Emily Goulet on 4/12/2012 at 6:29PM | 9 Comments
 Jupiterimages It’s not like I’ve never been in pain before. I’ve been hit in the face with a softball (that was never my sport), I’ve had my wisdom teeth removed, I’ve had kidney stones (which the nurse told me she thought was worse than giving birth—just sayin’). Still, when I get sick, I complain as if I’ve lived my entire life like some sort of bubble boy. It started last Friday night, when I felt a niggling tickle in the back of my throat. By the next morning, I didn’t have a voice and it hurt to swallow. Then came the sinus headache, the kind that makes you want to drill a hole in your head to relieve the pressure. I began explaining this to J. as I sat with a bag of frozen peas on my eyes: |
DIARY OF A MARRIAGE: OUR KITCHEN, THE LANDFILL.Male Random Selective Blindness, or Why My Husband Won’t Take Out The Trash.Posted by Emily Goulet on 4/5/2012 at 10:44AM | 7 Comments
 iStockphoto For what seems like the millionth time, I walk into our kitchen and see that the shopping bag in which we toss our recyclables is full. And not just full, but brimming over with empty boxes, toilet paper tubes, water bottles. These are all stacked precariously atop one another—toilet paper tube balancing on a water bottle, which is teetering on a Kleenex box, which is stacked on a Cheerios carton, which is piled on a pizza box. To the left of all this is a stack of magazines, which serves as a sturdy base for an entirely new tower of trash. Our kitchen looks like a freaking Jenga Championship Tournament. |
DIARY OF A MARRIAGE: DEALING WITH SICK PARENTS—TOGETHERWhen bad news strikes, J. shuts down and I open up (and Google obsessively). So, when faced with scary stuff, how’s this communication thing supposed to work again?Posted by Emily Goulet on 3/27/2012 at 2:30PM | 3 Comments
 Stockbyte When it rains it pours, they say. But first, the skies cleared a bit. There was the news, of course, and then, the treatment for J.’s mom’s breast cancer: six weeks of radiation. Her skin didn’t even crack during it, she said. She was one of the lucky ones. She became friends with all the other cancer patients. She showed them our wedding pictures and brought them copies of Philly Mag and Philly Wedding so that they could read the stories J. and I wrote. There’s a bond between cancer patients, she explained. You’re all weathering the same storm. And then, like I said, the storm cleared. Treatment was successful; she was nearing remission. Then the trickling began again: a doctor’s appointment, an MRI and, last Friday, the news that the cancer may have metastasized to her eye. Umbrellas out. |
DIARY OF A MARRIAGE: DEALING WITH YOUR SPOUSE’S ANNOYING HABITSMarriage means learning to live with each other’s nervous habits—or forcing them to break them.Posted by Emily Goulet on 3/21/2012 at 1:15PM | 9 Comments
 Em, going for her thumbs, on her nerve-wracking first day of kindergarten. I do this thing—I’ve done it for as long as I can remember: I pick at the skin on either side of my thumbnails. Gross, I know. But it’s just something I do, most of the time without even really noticing it. There’s even a photo of me as a little girl—red smocked dress, dark-brown bowl cut with a thick fringe of bangs, huge pink bag over my arm, eyes wide with apprehension. I am standing in front of a yellow school bus on the first day of kindergarten. But what stands out is my hand, instinctively raised to my mouth. At five years old, I am nervously gnawing on my thumb. It’s proof that that I’ve been abusing my poor thumbs for 25 years. |
DIARY OF A MARRIAGE: MAKING NEW COUPLE FRIENDSPosted by Emily Goulet on 3/14/2012 at 4:41PM | 5 Comments
 Thinkstock Images J. and I were having a pep talk in the parking lot of a restaurant last week, reassuring one another of our innate awesomeness. “We’re so fun,” I said. “Yeah,” J. agreed. “We are really fun.” We checked each other’s teeth. “You’re good.” “So are you.” And then we pep-talked some more. |
DIARY OF A MARRIAGE: RELATIONSHIP ROLES: WHO DRIVES?In every marriage, certain tasks fall to one partner. For me and J., that means he takes the wheel … and I sleep.Posted by Emily Goulet on 3/6/2012 at 6:00PM | 5 Comments
 Jupiterimages Since I went to school in Providence, I have lots of friends who live in New England. And, since I’m in my late twenties (okay, 29), I have lots of friends who are going through all the momentous life occasions that warrant a trip up north. This means J. and I ping-pong from Philly to Boston at least once every three months or so. In fact, our next-door neighbor has taken to asking us if we’re heading to Boston every time he sees us getting into the car. (Most of the time, if we’re hauling luggage, we are.) |
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