I am not saying there is no such thing as "happily ever after." Nothing nearly that cynical. I'm talking (as usual) about the mundane. How ever you think you will raise your children, you won't. How ever you think you will decorate your home, you won't. What ever you think you will name your dog, what ever temperature you think you will keep your bedroom at night, how ever you think you will open Christmas presents, you won't.
Because marriage is about compromise. And even if you and your intended agree on every single thing as you stand there at that altar taking your vows, things will change. You will change. Your intended will change. You haven't even met the children yet, and I promise you, they will be different than you expect. Compromises will, and must be made.
As a point of illustration, I offer this: Hubband and I both agreed that we did not want to live in one of those houses where the television was the center of the room. Aesthetically and culturally tacky. We agreed. Yet, somehow, our whole living space is now arrange in a very awkward configuration, for the sole purpose of giving us better access to the television.
Don't be fooled but the optical illusion of this picture.
I can sit on the couch and put my feet up on the fence.
The television is not only the focal point of the room, it looks as though the room is in fact a shrine. The television in question sits in its own alcove, a grotto of sorts, enclosed by a low fence to keep the stickier and more curious worshipers at a safe distance. For your viewing and sitting pleasure, the couch is less than four feet away, in the middle of the room. And by "middle," I mean the geographic center of the room. Front to back, side to side, in the middle of the room.
I have no energy left to fight this. All the compromising has worn me down. And, if I were being completely honest, I would admit that it is kinda nice to be able to see the TV.