My wife and I have never been overly affectionate in public spaces like some young couples that sit in Central Park and pop grapes into each other’s mouths, or others that cuddle in front of their parents like they were alone in a Costa Rican beach house.
Early in our marriage, my wife would occasionally sit on my lap if I asked her to. She was never the initiator. Truth is that I don’t think she ever really enjoyed it, but she was a good sport about it.
A few times, a friend drove us home from somewhere, and because of the car seats in their car, my wife was forced to sit on my lap for the three-minute ride. She survived.
Occasionally, at home as a joke, I’ll tap my knee — the universal sit-on-my-lap sign — it’s been 30 years of straight rejections.
I have found that five minutes was my lap limit before I’d lose all feeling in my legs. When you get older, certain things just don’t make sense anymore. For instance, if there are two chairs and two of you, why would you use only one chair?
After my father passed, I found a photo of him when he was around 16, at the beach with a young girl — not my mother — sitting on his shoulders. I have never seen a picture of my father, including their wedding album, where he looked happier. I was never gifted with shoulders that could hold anyone past the age of five.
Some fun couples install trapezoidal (Paiova) or pentagonal bathtubs for two or more to bathe together. Last time I took a bath with someone, I was six and my cousin Lenore was five. I know, because there is a photo of us where I never looked happier.
Once you become a grandparent, telling people you bathe together might cost you Thanksgiving invitations or even get you thrown out of your house of worship. My parents’ bathroom was not designed for any such tomfoolery. My mother would hang my father’s and her underwear from the shower rod for drip drying, and a pink enema bag hung on a hook behind the bathroom door.
My wife and I light scented candles in the bedroom, but their purpose is not to create any romantic mood. The candle is placed a few feet from the clothes hamper to mask the smell of exercise clothing and the dogs’ sweaters.
So, as we get older, what do we do to replace lap sitting or chasing her around the couch like I did early in the marriage?
Sometimes we take the dog for an early evening walk. If we are out of leftovers from Shabbat, we might go out to dinner, talk about the grandchildren, and what kind of job our kids are doing raising them. Maybe try to figure out how much longer we can live before we run out of money.
Once home, we wash up in separate bathrooms and smear on creams specifically designed to keep us from looking like we passed away years ago. Once in bed, we stream a show, read a few pages, I try desperately to hold off on the release of noxious gases, give a peck or two on the lips, and try to fall asleep without the aid of drugs.
The funny thing is, amazingly, I am happy with these changes. These changes are real life. And we both accept them.
Recently, we spent a few hours hunting the internet to find a new dryer after our old one conked out after just 25 years. They don’t make them like they used to.
I had a very warm feeling towards my wife while we picked out the new dryer. Together, we flipped through Consumer Reports and went to ChatGPT for dryer reviews. I felt lucky to have a wife who cares so much about laundry. Once we found it, we drove over to Best Buy and bought it. Both of us were excited for the delivery that Sunday. Driving home from Best Buy, I tapped my leg and asked if she wanted to sit on my lap and steer. She said, “OK,” feigned removing her seatbelt, then said, “Just drive.”
Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer, and hosts, along with Danny Lobell, the “We Think It’s Funny” podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”
