I had found a list of thirty-six questions that were supposed to help couples fall in love. Admittedly, Dave and I had been together for almost ten years, but I was hoping this weekend would help me feel more connected to him and that we could open up again, even if just a little bit. I felt like we talked about the kids, and he'd tell me about his day, but he never wanted to hear about mine, or tell me what he was thinking or, heaven forbid, feeling about anything. I had to discern that for myself. I figured if I could be more open with him, maybe he could be more open with me and we could get back some of those feelings from when we were first together.
Was it love or just the comfort of the familiar? That's what I was working on figuring out during our trip. I mean, what is love anyway? Is it purely chemical and bound to wear off in twelve to eighteen months so that we're left plodding along in our marriage after ten years? Is there more to it?
So I pulled out the questions as Dave and I drove along. We were only going a couple hours from home and that should be more than enough time.
"It'll be fun," I said, in a wheedling tone and smiled brightly.
"Aw, c'mon Cara." He pretended to reach for the door handle. "Is it too late to bail out of the car?"
"Yes," I scowled with mock severity but truthfully, I was a little surprised, and hurt, at his typical "guy" answer. He eschewed a lot of typical guy behaviors. He didn't watch football or baseball though he did watch fishing. He was also very physically affectionate, if not verbally. He would rub my back with one hand as we watched television or hold my hand as we walked and he was steadfast in giving me a kiss when he got home and saying I love you. But it had become sort of perfunctory.
He would tell me about all the events of his day as I cooked dinner but to talk about ideas or even to ask me questions about what I thought . . . forget it. He was logical and events were much more important than what someone thought or felt about them.
It had just become, day after day, side by side, talking about the kids and what we had to deal with right that minute but almost never the bigger ideas of life and what we really felt. Maybe I stopped listening too, I don't know.
I'd get up and he was gone before me to his job and I'd get the kids to school or daycare then get on to work myself and come home in time to feed everyone and get them into bed before falling into bed myself. He was usually asleep by the time I got there. Once or twice a week we'd have sex and it got to be perfunctory. Then that got to be more and more infrequent.
I admit I often felt alone, like I couldn't trust my husband, with my fears and sadness, like he'd take that as a weakness. Now, that wasn't totally in my head. He'd taught me that when I cried so much after our first child was born. He'd just looked at me with scorn, like . . . if he could just force me to keep a stiff upper lip then everything would be fine. I'd learned to keep my pain to myself and not to trust him with what I was thinking, let alone feeling, and he seemed to like it that way. We muddled through.
He wasn't a bad guy, really. He was very loving, in so many ways. I couldn't imagine him ever raising a hand to little ole me. I'm all of five feet nothing in bare feet (with an awesome blond inverted pixie cut my cousin does for me,) and freckles. I mean, he never even raised his voice to me. He was a great dad too.
I had planned this weekend away at a cabin without the kids, who were nine, seven and five. They were at their grandparents. Of course, I made it somewhere he could fish or I wasn't sure he'd be willing to come along. Hell, I thought maybe I'd go fishing too. At least I could take my sketchbook or camera and get some images down while he fished.
"Oh, c'mon, it's not that bad." I coaxed him. "Look, the first question is simply if you could invite anyone in the world to dinner, who would it be?"
"Hmmm..."
"For me, it would either be someone philosophical or theological, like the Dalai Lama or a writer like Neil Gaiman."
"Okay," he agreed quickly. "You invite Neil Gaiman and I'll invite Jim Butcher."
Like I said, logical.
We worked our way though the questions as we drove over the old main road - green hills and blue sky with puffy white clouds filled the vista.
There were three sets of questions and the first ones were easy. We both agreed that we didn't particularly want to be famous but I wanted to sell my personal photography and artwork. We also both planned what we would say on the phone before making phone calls.
Telling our life story in under four minutes proved pretty much impossible but I got further than he did, not having to divide my attention with driving.
The second set of questions got a little more invasive but I realized we really knew quite a bit about each other because I wasn't surprised at any of his answers and he didn't seem surprised at mine either.
Two thirds of the way to the camp site, we hit a major stumbling block and I knew it as soon as I read the question. (I had deliberately refrained from reading through them ahead of time.) So, I tried to make light of it. "Okay, I know it physically pains you to give me a verbal compliment, but the next question says to take turns stating five positive characteristics of each other."
He laughed but he really had trouble. I started. "I love how thoughtful you are, like the time you brought me down a pair of socks before I ever asked for them."
He tried, he really did. "I like working together on getting dinner ready."
"O-kay," I said. "So, what would be my positive characteristic that helps you enjoy that?"
"Um . . . your leadership?"
"I'll take it!" It wasn't the most romantic compliment I'd ever gotten and I'd had to pry it out of him but I really suspected his brain didn't work along those lines. I wondered if there was an app that would help him with giving compliments.
We coasted through the other questions and, in the end, I felt I had learned something. We really knew each other more intimately than I would have guessed.
We finished up as we got close to the campground and I put on my navigator cap to get us the rest of the way with the directions he had scribbled down the night before. He had a GPS but for some reason it was never in the car and we didn't use it.
We parked near the office and I waited while he went to check us in. It only took a few minutes and we drove up a short incline then turned left into a parking space behind our little cabin.
"The bathrooms are right there, far enough away to not be disturbed by much foot traffic but close in case you need the facilities at night," he said happily.
