Married couples have their own math. Ask any spouse how long he or she has been married and the answer might be "Forever." My wife, Lorraine, and I have recently adopted more precise arithmetic. Our marriage is one plus a third, or E&L marriage = normal years + (normal years x .33). You see, I lost my staff job earlier this year and now freelance from home, where Lorraine is director of development for our 19-month-old, Ike. So we're together roughly 24-7, or 33 percent more than even the most ball-and-chained working couple. Not that we're counting.
And so far, so good. We're almost always within shouting distance, yet the shouting remains minimal. As more parents we know are getting laid off, more couples seem interested in our (albeit early) success (fingers crossed). They want to know how it's possible that we haven't lost our minds yet, and I tell them that we're each 33 percent better-than-average partners. When they've stopped laughing, I share my other theories.
Plaster.
I find "man caves" barbaric, but the home itself plays a key role in a successful dual confinement. Our old Victorian has thick, soundproof plaster walls, a porch to which we can flee, and a lock on the office door. Trying to 24-7 with an open floor plan violates the Geneva Convention.
Sprinters can't run marathons.
Lorraine and I are hardwired—or maybe softwired—to work through 12 and 13 stages of passive-aggressiveness, respectively, before having an argument. That's not always a good thing. (It can take months to broach the subject of "I'm changing three times more diapers than you.") But I doubt impetuous hotheads are built for the perpetual marriage.
Tune-out stations.
I can handle only so much discussion of Project Runway and menu planning; likewise, Lorraine is less than interested in the weekend golf results. Scattering iPod docks around the house comes in handy. "What'd Heidi Klum say? Sorry, can't hear you over the AC/DC...."
Stop, look, listen.
Even though you need the ability to tune each other out, you can't hide behind "best of the '80s" playlists forever. You'll have way more time to screw up such basic marital functions as listening, never mind appreciating each other's heroic efforts (in our case) to earn a meager living and raise a happy camper. Pay attention! Eternal vigilance is the key to eternal cohabitation.
Forgive and forget.
As Don Henley noted in his 1989 song "The Heart of the Matter," "I think it's about/Forgiveness." Never mind that the lyrics had already informed us that "The more I know/The less I understand"—Don was right. Odds are you're bound to screw up more with all that extra time you're spending together. Just don't take as long as the Eagles did to get over it and move on.
