It’s hard to answer the ‘hard questions’ in a relationship

And now I find myself in a relationship. A serious relationship. How serious? Well, we’re talking the “M” word, probably in May.

I know, I know, it seems pretty darn quick to me, too, but I’m crazy about her and we’re both anxious to begin our life together. At my age, I figure the sooner the better; I only have so many good years left.

In fact, were it up to me, we’d be on a plane to Vegas right now. I’ve always wanted to be married by an Elvis impersonator.

That’s not going to happen, though, because my fiancé is smarter than I am, far classier, and considerably more cautious.

In addition to being smart and cautious, she’s also a bit of an academician; she doesn’t do anything without thoroughly investigating the pros, cons and neutrals of a situation, and much of her investigative process involves the reading of authoritative books.

I have no problem with this. I think it’s a good idea, in fact. Problem is, she also wants me to read these books. Worse still, she wants to discuss the books after we’ve read them.

Now, there are no cheat sheets for relationship books, no Cliff Notes. (I checked.) In order to discuss them intelligently, one must actually read the things.

As a man, the idea of reading about—much less discussing—relationships causes me to break out in hives. I shiver all over and lose muscle control; I see black spots swimming in front of my eyes.

The love of my life doesn’t care. It’s important, she says. It will help us understand the challenges ahead of us, she says. Do it or you’re back to doing your own laundry and eating Ramen noodles, she says.

That last one usually gets my attention.

And so I’ve been reading the books. The latest is entitled “The Hard Questions” and it hurts my head every time I crack the cover. The narrative itself is tolerable enough, as such things go; but more than half the book is in quiz format—questions the intended and her man are supposed to answer, and answer honestly.

Some of the questions are obviously intended for younger (at least younger than me) readers. “Will we have children together?” for example. Answer: “Not unless Immaculate Conception comes into play at some point.”

Here are a few other questions the book poses, along with my responses:

“Are we each happy with our overall health?” Answer: “Baby, I’m 54. Every day I drag myself out of bed without a walker is a good day.”

“What if one of us is attracted to someone else?” Answer: “Again, I’m 54. I’m no genius, but I have learned to keep my trap shut about some things.”

“How do we decide how to spend our money?” Answer: “I’ve been married before, sweetheart. Here’s my paycheck. Try to keep the lights on.”

“Do we need to change our wills now that we’re planning to marry?” Answer: “No, you just go ahead and keep the box my stuff is in. Nobody else wants VHS tapes of the original Star Trek series anyway.”

“What do you like about my family of origin?” Answer: “Your dad didn’t follow through on his threat to beat me up when we told him about the wedding plans.”

My fiancé loves me, which is great because I feel the same way about her. Also, it helps her to accept the possibility I’m only skimming the chapter headings.

More Reality Check online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.mlive.com. Email Mike Taylor at mtaylor325@gmail.com.