I’ve lived in Manhattan for 10 years. Happy. Content. Married even. And then one day my husband decided we needed a farm. So now I spend my weeks in the city and my weekends doing manual labor on the world’s biggest renovation project of all time.

Hard labor is seriously ruining my manicure.

These lyrics really hit me where it hurts:

When Becky asked me to guest blog, I was super excited and immediately said yes. But then I was like, wait, I’m married, is that allowed? And she was kind enough to remind me that oh yeah, even when you’re married, your love life can still be F’d.

Before I started writing, I thought it would only be fair to incorporate my husband’s POV on this personal expose, and I must say it opened up some interesting doors. And by “interesting,” I mean nasty. It ended in a fight actually. He said “you should call it The Grass is Always Greener and warn those single chicks not to get married.” Thanks, dude. You always say the sweetest things.

But I’m used to such biting comments after 3 years of wedded bliss and our tiff was soon forgotten. But it made me realize exactly what separates marriage from a regular relationship, and what changed when we both finally took the plunge: no more Mr. and Mrs. Nice Guy. Uh uh. Once the bind is made, you can shit all over the other person as much as your heart desires because you know he or she is still gonna be there the next morning, no matter what

I think that knowledge is part of what fuels my husband’s insane demands of me.

Tractor Lessons

We are currently renovating an old farm outside the city and when I say “we” are doing it, I mean WE are doing it. It’s honestly the biggest DIY project of all time. I can’t tell you how many WTF?! moments I’ve had. Get on the roof and remove shingles?! What’s a shingle? Nevertheless, I give everything my best shot, no matter how ridiculous. As a result, I not only know how to remove singles, but I also know how to dig a trench, how to operate a scissor lift, how to drive a backhoe and many other valuable things that will not contribute a thing to my career or my personal goals.

I continually repeat the mantra “hard labor is good for the soul” when I’m out on the farm, slaving away. Perhaps this adage is true, but hard labor is not so good for the ol’ marriage. When you come home from a grueling day of shoveling dirt or drilling steel beams, the last thing you want is to infringe on even a minute of valuable sleep time. I think you get what I’m saying here…

And while the physical aspects of our love life may be suffering and my shoulders are getting increasingly larger from all the steel lifting, at the end of the day, I am doing this for my husband, who is not only the love of my life but also my best friend, and my closest confidant. A good husband should serve the role of your own personal dah in one neat package.

I’m sure my husband’s demands will continue to be insane at least until I get knocked up and can claim “too dangerous for the baby.” But until then, I will persevere with a smile, or some semblance of one anyhow. Because at the end of the day, I know I’m contributing to our future and to something special that we are building together. I might get mistaken for a man the next few years until we complete renovations, but eventually my shoulders will deflate and we’ll be back to 5 nights a week of hotness in the bedroom. Unless we have a baby. Oh god, that’s a whole other thing I’m not ready for…let’s stick to the house. Honey, hand me the shovel.

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