A Nostalgic Super Bowl

One of my favorite days of the year is Super Bowl Sunday. Football is the only sport I watch regularly, and it’s because I always saw myself as a “potential” football player. Growing up, I was a plump and awkward momma’s boy who had large legs which easily chafed. Running was not my forte, and I only participated in sports for two reasons. The first reason was the delicious snacks which were handed out at the end of each match. In the 90’s, there were no thoughts of restricting sugar consumption or bringing “healthy” treats; parents would bring boxes of Little Debbies and cases of discounted cherry flavored Powerade. I would always make it my goal to move as little as possible so I wouldn’t have to apply rash medication and that I would have energy at the end to run towards the snack tray. This brings me to my second reason for loving sports – the ability to use my Zebra-Cake-Roll figure to body slam unsuspecting victims.

ld_zebracakerolls_900x550

 

Kids growing up come in three sizes: string bean, fat, or early puberty. All I had going for myself was a full waist which required me to shop in the Husky section at JcPenny. I couldn’t compete with the “early puberty” kids because their sheer mass and facial hair growth would intimidate the most confident “American Beauty” parent. My prey were the string beans. I despised these kids because they always made fun of my blubber thighs while simultaneously shoving their faces with junk food. I envied their metabolisms, and I sought revenge on them whenever possible. In every sport, it is inevitable that a person would fall to the ground or get tired and lay down. Whenever this moment struck a string bean, I would simply waddle over, and body slam them repeatedly. Cries would come from beneath my adipose, and a huge smile would always find its way to my face. Body slamming became my superpower, and I discovered that football was the perfect avenue for crushing unsuspecting foes. Unfortunately, there is a lot more to football then just body slamming and no “fat-boy” can compete with the ubiquitous “early puberty” kids who are drawn to the sport like mustached men to a playground. I eventually grew up and stopped participating in sports. My love for Little Debbies never went away, and I still missed those body slams. To fill this apparent gap, I watched football every weekend. Of course, you may be asking why I didn’t get into wrestling if I loved body slams so much? Well, I did enjoy Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant, but my family was too cheap to pay for pay-per-view events and Juggalo makeup. Hence, football was my primary outlet, and I grew to love sitting on the couch with a bowl of ice cream and watching my favorite players: Jerome Bettis, Brett Farve, and Warren Sapp.

giphy4

Fast forward to last night’s Super Bowl. I didn’t have a party to go to so my wife and I watched the game together. The problem is that my wife was the “string bean” kid who I always despised as a child. She was the girl who ran circles around me and laughed at my bulbous thighs. To make matters worse, she was a “karate” string bean kid who filled every possible Asian stereotype. Christina would go to karate class, perform high kicks, and then go get a bubble-tea afterward. So understand, this is what I’m working with as my football viewing partner. I made it clear to her that there was no Pinterest allowed during the game and that she had to at least watch the commercials with me; somehow she ended up in the kitchen for an hour cleaning dishes and managed to find a Norwegian Cruise catalog to peruse while I wasn’t looking. I kept trying to get Christina’s attention by saying “this is a big play.” After the second half, Christina began to laugh every time she heard me say “this is a big play.” It became a joke between the two of us, and we actually enjoyed our time together through our mocking. I looked at Christina and thought to myself how much I loved her even though she was a string bean. The game finished and I smiled at my wife – her innocent face softly laying on the pillow. I thought to myself – “she still is just a string bean” – with a pillow as cushioning, I fell on her with a soft but sturdy body slam.  Hearing yells through the hallway, I got myself a sugary treat and took a deep breath of nostalgia – I checked for chafing and to my dismay turned to see Christina wearing her karate belt.

giphy5

The Best Gift I Can Give

During the Christmas season, I am generally a scrooge. Not surprisingly, I loathe shopping malls where the almighty god of commercialization is most worshipped. This past weekend, I was at a mall in Metro-Detroit – a suburban sprawl which requires a 30-minute commute to seemingly every destination. This mall was packed to the gills, and I felt like a human bumper cart weaving in and out of overpriced clothing stores. Me being me, I ranted to Christina the whole time about how stupid it all was and how I couldn’t wait for the holidays to be over. My wife is the opposite of my curmudgeon self; her ideal world would probably be the one located inside a snowflake where celebrations occur for maxed-out credit cards – Whoville. After a few grumpy rants, Christina started to deter my negativity with every woman’s rationalization for the holidays…

giphy5

Me – “What is the point of buying all these gifts that no one needs?! I can’t wait till the 26th.”

Christina – “MY LOVE (not said in a loving way) stop being an old man. Christmas is all about tradition and celebrating family.”

Me – “Why can’t we just celebrate family without all the gifts? It just makes us materialistic.”

Christina – “We have to give gifts because God gave us the gift of baby Jesus. That is why we need to stand in line for an hour at Pandora and buy a $100 charm. And if you don’t shut up I am going to buy some gifts at that new vegetarian make-up store that doesn’t believe in “sales.”

Me – “Alright, I’ll stop. Maybe we can find a “What Would Jesus Do” charm?”

giphy6

This conversation is a microcosm of the American Christmas experience. That is why I wanted to write this blog about the reason for the season. Jesus is indeed a forgotten figure during this time, and I thought it would be fun to juxtapose some of His philosophy with the philosophy in my most recent classic The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli.

The Prince is a how-to guide to being a powerful and successful monarch during the 1500’s. Although the book is old, it has many sad truths about how politicians can climb the career ladder – the term “Machiavellian” is defined as…

cunning, scheming, and unscrupulous, especially in politics or in advancing one’s career.

Essentially, Machiavelli makes the point that a Prince needs to be ready at any time for battle…

“A prince should therefore have no other aim or thought, nor take up any other thing for his study; but war and its organisation and disciplice, for that is the only art that is necessary to one who commands…”

hear-no-evil-see-no-evil-or-are-they-evil-politicians

 

 A key component in the battle of politics is to know when to be good and when to be evil…

“Therefore it is necessary for a prince, who wishes to maintain himself, to learn how not to be good, and to use this knowledge and not use it, according to the necessity of the case.”

This advice sadly has a lot of relevance today for politicians and government officials. Put in another way, one must appear in public as an angel and in private as a demon – sounds like a House of Cards episode.

The advice of the Earthly Prince must be juxtaposed with the Heavenly Prince of Jesus. Jesus said that…

“But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you,  bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back.” Luke 6:27-30
giphy7
Humility and generosity should be the most common tools of today’s leaders. Aggression, deceit, and pride all help individuals reach temporary power – shortsightedly killing the goose to get the golden egg. Leadership depends on relationships and relationships depend on some degree of love.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.” Matthew 5:7
So this Christmas let’s give each other the gift of mercy. Let’s be more patient with each other. Let’s be more empathetic with each other. Let’s be more honest with each other. The material gifts on the 25th will eventually fade away, but the rewards of virtue will make you feel like royalty throughout the rest of the year.
Merry Christmas Everyone

Thankfulness for Loneliness

For the past three weeks, I have been living alone – my wife started her new job as a Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner in Benton Harbor, Michigan. I wanted to work a few more weeks in Flint because I like my coworkers and our credit card is smoking because of some recent trips to the furniture store. I knew being alone would be difficult, but I had no idea that the experience would lead to a weird blog post. Before I get started, I must clarify that I was not “completely” alone – my Chihuahua stayed with me so Christina could entirely focus on her transition. The first couple of days after my wife’s exit were not bad at all; actually, it felt like a brief vacation – a break from picking up after myself and worrying about peeing on the toilet seat.

giphy

The two to three-day break from a spouse is the worst possible thing for a marriage. The reason for this is twofold. The first is that it gives a person a false understanding of what it feels like to be alone. Humans seem to have a camel-like reservoir that enables them to go through mini-droughts of human interaction; we are just peachy doing our own thing for a couple of days. The second reason is the natural consequence of our camel mentality – we think that the reserves will never fail and our mini-vacation mindset will last forever – making us question the point of having a spouse in the first place. Pause for an important note. This camel mentality is only present in long-term relationships – so all you firecracker young couples can take a chill pill. As I was saying, it was great being a slob and my longing for Christina was just around 15% battery life.

low_battery_by_grimstarable-d3jpuhl

Fast forward to four days of being alone. The reserves just seemed to take a pitfall as if my hump was the gas tank of a hummer accelerating on the freeway. From that point on I started to look at pictures online of my wedding day. I watched Sam I Am and actually cried. I dreaded going home after work. I began to talk to my books as if the characters could listen. I called my friends excessively as if we were living in some 1980’s sitcom. I went on like this for close to two weeks. I began to miss Christina as much as a man wandering the desert misses water. My senses started to play tricks with me as if they too wanted some sort of interaction: unidentified objects flew past my field of vision, voices were heard in adjacent rooms, inner thoughts morphed into OCD tendencies.

giphy1

It all came to a head on one of the last days before I was reunited with Christina. As usual, I was reading, and the house was eerily quiet. There was a noise in my bedroom that kept nagging at me, and I thought it was just another one of my lonely hallucinations. After finishing my book, I decided to investigate and went to my bedroom. The noise was there, but I just couldn’t pinpoint it. With a flick of the switch, I saw what my loneliness had come to. The sound that I heard through the whole house was actually Max – yet again playing his skin flute on top of my pillow. As soon as the lights came on, he froze like a homunculus deer, and we both awkwardly gawked at each other. It was at that point that I reached my lowest level in this experiment of seclusion. I shut the light, went back to the couch, and just stared at the wall – with the same faint noise continuing in the background. Here is the moral of the story: too much loneliness is not suitable for man or beast. We need people, and we need to appreciate our loved ones. That is why in this season of Thankfulness I am appreciative of my loneliness – just the right amount makes you come bumbling into your wife’s arms like a soldier who has come back from war – or merely a traumatic encounter with a chihuahua. 

giphy7

My Wife…the Doctor

IMG_0613

This June 21st, my wife and I will be technically celebrating our 3rd wedding anniversary; I say technically because, in my opinion, we are going on 8 years. In 2009, my eyes beheld an exotic beauty who would forever change my life. Sure we didn’t have the marriage certificate, but I knew she was the one for me; 100 years earlier, our union would have been sealed in a matter of months. However, modern day society requires a very long waiting period, primarily because of one thing – school. See, back in 2009, our pimply-first kisses were constantly interrupted by an unending load of tests, homework, and research projects. Of course, we made time for each other, but there was always that incessant character of “school” in the corner staring us down during our cuddle sessions. School for me ended in 2013, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief – that sigh was short-lived because Christina was far from done; unfortunately, my wife decided to go on to reach the pinnacle of all degrees – a doctorate. What defined our marriage more than anything was education. Everything that we did had to be worked around syllabi which seemed to always paper the walls as if we were conspiracy theorists locked in a room – connecting each assignment with red yarn. To throw fuel on our fire of misery, Christina approached every project with a resolution that always seemed to satisfy Asian stereotypes.

IMG_0578

Christina approaches school completely different than myself. When I was in school, I didn’t take notes or really study the material – I knew how to take tests and get good grades without stressing out; I was always the guy asking for a pencil and storing my papers between the pages of books. Christina is the complete opposite. She not only takes notes but attempts to convert lecture information into a piece of art – multicolored pens work together to form a perfectly spaced and punctuated tapestry. These works of art are then put into a dewy decimal system – housed in a myriad of trapper keepers – an amount that would even make Staples envious. Folders of all shapes and sizes are strewn throughout the house, and somehow each one needs to be referenced for an assignment. The library of plastic is used to reach a perfect score – this being my biggest struggle with my wife’s schooling. Doctoral school is the zenith of education, you can’t go any higher upon completion. Hence, grades don’t really matter. To Christina, Doctoral school is no different than elementary school in the importance of the report card – the gold star will be obtained at all sacrifice. That sacrifice was my sanity. Here is a typical dialogue…

Me, “Hey my sexy woman, you want to go see a movie on Saturday?”

Wife, (Staring blankly at the computer as if high on meth) “Um…I need today to work on an assignment…it will probably take me a while.”

Me, (Calmly petting my Chihuahua) “Well, how much is it worth?”

Wife, (Now drooling as if a mini-stroke occurred) “5 points but I need those points to bump my grade up to an A-”

Me, (Sticking my chest out in rage and tightening my grip around my Chihuahua’s neck) “It doesn’t matter! You are a fricking crazy Filipina woman! Why the heck did you want this doctorate?!”

IMG_0627

Let’s just say, after 8 years of schooling my patience was at a minimum. There were so many occasions when Christina was flat out depressed, tired, and utterly ready to quit school; and sadly, I didn’t help many times with my negative comments which sent us both into despair. This doctorate tested our relationship on a daily basis and strained our marriage to a point I never want to see again. Like a storm when it reaches its apex, we thought there was no end to the suffering. But at last, hints of sun came from the skies, and the last drops seemed to be falling – not in a hail but a refreshing mist.

IMG_0617

All came to a head last week when I saw my wife walk across the graduation stage and receive her degree. The feeling I had at that moment was one of pure wonderment. Christina not only received a Doctorate of Nurse Practitioner but also earned honor cords for exemplary grades. I thought I knew my wife after 8 years, but that day I saw her in a brand new light; beyond any doubt, she is the hardest worker I have ever beheld. She motivates me to be a better man, and I would never have pushed with this blog if I didn’t see Christina pushing with school. So Christina, I just want to thank you. Thank you for never taking the easy way out. Thank you for raising the bar. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for the life lessons. Thank you for the smile that always crosses my face when I say – “Dr. Christina-Elizabeth Cabuena Oldham.”

IMG_0622

The Diary of a Nobody

“It’s the diary that makes the man.”

-George Grossmith

Did you ever have a diary? I always thought a diary was for wimpy little girls who needed to get their emotions on paper via multi-colored pens. I kept a paper diary only two times in my life. The first time was a dismal attempt at recording my “feelings” after coming home from a mission trip. We were told to read the Bible and write about our sinful teenage misgivings – after writing “I looked at a girl’s butt” for the hundredth time, the diary got thrown out. The second time was when I lived in Honduras for three months. My Mom recommended that I record all the happenings so in the future I could look back at the events with greater detail. That diary was actually a success, most of its contents included missing Christina (my future wife) – and with parallels to my first diary – her well-shaped contours.

img_4503_zpsbpuegqrt

I still thank my Mom today for suggesting the diary in Honduras, and I think it primed me in some ways to create my third diary: SAPERE AUDE. This blog is really just a public journal with an overarching theme of discovering wisdom; it’s kinda like a log for a runner but instead of miles ran, it is the number of books read. Blogging is an incredibly rewarding experience that channels my inner little girl to express myself to people all over the world. Throughout history, people have kept diaries in the hopes that they would be published for public consumption – this was most popular in the 19th century and led to the classic The Diary of a Nobody by George and Weedon Grossmith.

giphy1

The Diary of a Nobody is the fictitious diary of George Pooter who is a lower-middle class Englishman in the 1880’s. Pooter writes in his diary in part to record important moments, witty jokes, and mishappenings which are regular occurrences. Mr. Pooter personifies the class structure of late 19th century England; the lower classes try to be more like the upper classes, and the upper classes scorn their faux ladder climbing. One attempt at modeling the upper class was writing a diary which many wealthy people kept to later publish – making them quite famous. The problem is that Mr. Pooter is a “nobody” in a family that makes fun of the idea of his diary becoming syndicated; it’s the modern day equivalent of a friend saying they deserve a reality show because of their exciting life – (cue eye roll). 

giphy2

The thing is, I identify with Mr. Pooter with this blog. I know that it is just me rambling about weird subjects, but sometimes I think it may make me famous one day; maybe my post about the War of 1812 will go viral! One can fantasize, but the real motivation for keeping any type of diary is the ability to look back in time. Life is so fascinating that writing consolidates details that may otherwise be forgotten – thankfully I can share those memories with my readers – even if I never surpass the status of a “nobody.”

Two Types of Men

Being a man in today’s world is really hard. There are two types of men out there: the doer or the payer. The “doer” is the type of guy who gets his hands dirty and gets the job done on his own terms. The “payer” is the type of guy who pays others to get the job done so he can pursue other activities. I fall into the category of the payer. I would much rather pay a person to put up a fence for my squirrel-like chihuahua than spend the whole day cursing at wooden posts. The problem with my “man” status is that I am a cheap frick. Being a cheap payer is the worse combination because I don’t want to change the oil myself but at the same time I can’t stand the guy asking me if I want an upgrade to synthetic for $89.99. This always gets me in trouble. Just today, I spent 2 hours snow blowing my driveway. A true payer would have someone plow it while he sat in a chair reading Esquire. Me on the other hand, spends the whole time dreaming of sitting down to a good magazine while I begin to pummel the side of the house with a bunch of pine needles that I never got around to raking. A doer would have cleaned all the pine needles off the house, laid a bunch of salt, and put orange markers near the grass to ensure snow removal accuracy; instead, I cursed those pine needles, left the job 80% finished and spent the next hour arguing about planting grass in the spring with my wife.

As a cheap payer I struggle with a constant envy towards the doer type. I say to myself, “Wouldn’t be nice if I enjoyed tinkering on a car?” or “Wouldn’t it feel good to shoot an animal dead?” Instead of enjoying the raw aspects of masculinity I spend my time looking for tire rotation coupons and informing my Dad about the health benefits of dark chocolate. Being a cheap payer is like being in masculine purgatory. I go into projects like a moaning preteen – in the end, the project never turns out sufficient and I can’t boast of any success to my wife. Here is a familiar play:

-Christina: “Jon, can you fix the paint chip on my car?”

-Me: “Um…I am actually writing a blog post so I don’t think so…”

-Christina: “Do it or I will get it professionally done.”

-Me: “Alright…” Three weeks later “I fixed your paint chip!”

-Christina: “Great how did you do it?”

-Me: “I bought some car-spray paint from Auto Zone. Do you like how it looks?”

-Christina: “I’m going to reread my Wedding Vows to see if there are any loopholes!”

So what is a cheap payer to do in a masculine world where you either wear Carhartt jackets and ride 4-Wheelers or wear fancy sweaters and drive golf carts? Honestly, I don’t think I will ever get rid of my cheapness and I don’t think I will ever enjoy working with my hands. My solution is to overcompensate my manliness in two ways: communication  and accepting help from others. I think men are lacking in these two areas and they fit right into my hobbies of reading and conversing. Many times the doers can fix material things but fall flat on their faces when it comes to emotions, conversations outside of sports, and asking for directions. I need to play to my strengths and be the guy who knows the right thing to say at the right time. The guy who knows what he is talking about but also knows how not to be a “know-it-all.” In respects to asking for help, I am going to use more YouTube tutorials, my Dad, and random strangers if I am in a quandary. Instead of feeling like a hopeless terd when trying to figure out a project, I can use the advice of others to empower myself and become motivated. Of course, the ultimate goal is to be a man who knows when its worth it to pay and not worth it to pay – a doer with the right priorities and the humility to seek out a friend. For now, the pine needles will stay and I will look online for DIY tree sap removal.

 

 

An Easy Marriage

Today is my one year wedding anniversary and I have to say to the whole world that I am in love with a woman that is truly my best friend. My life would suck without her and I am a better person because she shows me how to be empathetic and sensitive. Marriage is easy when you have a wife like mine and I thank God for this gift that I do not deserve. As we go into our second year of marriage I want to continually work on being a better husband. Being a truly good man is extremely hard but I am so grateful that I have a patient wife that holds my hand through the journey.

The Two Income Trap

What happened to the idea that a wife would stay home and care after the house while the husband would be the bread winner? Well, feminism extricated women from their historic-domestic role and starting in the 1970’s women began to flood the workforce with fervor. I am all for women getting equal rights and being allowed to strap on the business suit and sit in a cubicle all day. My nagging question is why the reverse scenario wasn’t afforded to men? Sure, men can technically stay home and let their wife be the bread winner but I find it not nearly as socially acceptable. In the US at least, I find that woman are supported if they desire a career or a domestic title. A woman in the workforce can still be feminine and is viewed as strong, ambitious, intelligent, etc. A woman who stays at home, to take care for her family, can still be feminine and is viewed as strong, caring, nurturing, etc. How is a man viewed who stays at home to take care of domestic manners? I would say that he may be looked at as less masculine, lazy, lacking ambition, and weak. Sure there are exceptions to what people believe but I am talking about the general societal views that are brought up behind closed doors. The reason I bring these points up are two fold: firstly, I think it is important to identify that we do not need two income households, and secondly, we need to rethink what true masculinity represents.

You are probably thinking, “Jon what the frick, we need all the money we can get and are scrapping by with two incomes!” You probably are scrapping by, but that is because of spending habits and the life you created more than the actual amount of money you need. The two income trap is that you end up spending most of the money you make and hence build a lifestyle that corresponds to your dual income level. Think about if you had your pay cut in half. You would change your spending habits and adjust your lifestyle. I challenge both women and men to think about how they can cut the amount of time they spend working and readjust their lives to do the things they truly love to do. Men, I am reaching out to you and asking to rethink what masculinity truly means. Masculinity is not defined by the amount of money you make or the amount of respect you receive from a title. True masculinity is being secure in your own faculties so you can be the best lover, friend, mentor, son, and father. To anyone interested in the concept of the why two incomes is not beneficial I would recommend reading The Two-Income Trap: Why Middle-Class Parents are Going Broke by Elizabeth Warren. I know I had two points in this post but they are really related. Women and especially men need to let go of perceived societal norms, support lives that tout relationships over greed, and realize that life can be so much more fulfilling then the rat-race. I end with the question, “What would you do if you won the lottery?” 95% of people I have asked this said they would quit their job’s immediately.

The Poison of Unconditional Love and Earned Respect

The wife just doesn’t get why her fat-lazy husband never picks up his clothes. She has berated him over and over about cleaning up after himself and she is at the point of treating him like an over-grown child. The husband on the other hand hasn’t been attracted to his wife ever since she became a frazzled-OCD soccer mom who reminds him of his naggy mother. The closest they get to intimacy now is accidentally touching hands when reaching into the popcorn bowl while watching reruns of Big Bang Theory. This is a fairly common occurrence among married couples and it comes down to two major problems-the wife doesn’t feel loved and the husband doesn’t feel respected. This conundrum was the subject of my most recent book Love and Respect by Dr. Emerson Eggerichs. I really enjoyed this book because it gives a different message then the usual rhetoric of, “…you need to unconditionally love each other and pray and kiss and have your penis inverted :).” The focus that love is the primary thing men and women desire is just flat out wrong. Dr. Eggerichs uses the acronym C-O-U-P-L-E to describe the love women need for a healthy relationship: C is for Closeness, O is for Openness, U is for Understanding, P is for Peacemaking, L is for Loyalty, and E is Esteem. Men in general desire respect and the acronym for this is C-H-A-I-R-S: C is for Conquest, H is for Hierarchy, A is for Authority, I is for Insight, R is for Relationship, and S is for Sexuality. Now obviously both genders desire love and respect but in general they find one more important than the other. The point Dr. Eggerichs makes is that women need to change their thinking that respect needs to be earned while love is unconditional; both need to be unconditional to get out of the crazy downward spiral of fighting and misunderstanding. The cycle goes like this-without love she reacts and doesn’t show respect which then makes him react and not show love. This goes round and round and usually ends with the wife thinking “he doesn’t love me,” and the husband thinking “she is not the women I married.”

A healthy relationship has the energizing cycle-with his love she is motivated to show respect and her respect motivates him to show more love. Alright, how do you get on the cycle of true marital bliss. Well, first off, you have to be patient and be the mature one in the relationship to start showing love/respect even if it is not immediately reciprocated. If you are a wife I suggest going up to your husband and saying “…honey I respect you because of (fill in blank).” I bet your man will be surprised and feel great after this comment. If you are a husband go out and buy a card and write one thing you love about your wife. Place the card somewhere she will find it and booyah your wife will feel pretty awesome. Keep up the love/respect attitudes and like a snowball that is rolling down a hill it will grow into a perpetuating cycle of positive feelings. For husbands this may be difficult because your wife is a fat devil and treats you worse than a dog. For wives this may be difficult because your husband is a moron and only associates love with eating chicken wings at Hooters. Alright, you need to step up, be mature, and know that God will be with you through the process. Women, you may have to fake respect for a bit but stick with it because if your husband is good natured he will eventually reciprocate love. Also for those strong willed women out there, it is not chauvinistic or anti-feminist to let your husband make the decisions. A husband will feel immensely respected knowing that you trust his judgement. Think of the power in a relationship as 50-50 with the final decision going to the one who desires respect the most. Let’s all try to improve our relationships with this knowledge. I am going to lift Christina up by giving her kisses and hugs whenever she wants them-even when she puckers her lips half way across the room. Christina is not going to bash me in front of other people because I’m a cheap fricker. Remember, love comes slow but it can be destroyed in a second. Cherish your relationship and treat it as your most valuable possession on this earth.

“Each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.”

-Ephesians 5:33