Yours, Mine and Ours

It has been a solid week since the marriage conversation. Neither or us has brought it up again, which is just as well because, really, it's a bit premature to be fighting (He'd stop me here and insist it was just a debate and not a fight) over something like that.

Last night Christopher found this new tavern that takes the spot in a building where one of the first dance clubs I went to in the city was located. You can tell the nightclub used to be there by the red velvet curtains that still hang in the VIP section, which makes it even more awkward in its sports bar conversion.

I licked wing sauce off of my fingertips. I was acutely aware that there was still some left on my face, but the limited number of napkins on the table did not allow for frequent face wipes.

"So, have you heard from your father since he and your mom went to Vegas?" I asked, making small talk.

"No, and you know what? He called last night and left a message saying for the first time ever that I didn't have to call him back. They were going to gamble their ass off."

"Asses," I automatically corrected.

"What?"

"Asses. Your mom has an individual ass, and your dad has an individual ass. They do not share an ass." He hates the grammatical genius in me, but I can't stop it.

Christopher shook his chicken wing at me and spoke seriously, "Sarah, don't you realize when you get married, things become 'ours' and not 'individual'? our marriage. Our kids. Our checking account."

My mind immediately scoffed at the idea of joint checking. As if. I'm a bit territorial and I wonder if Christopher has picked up on this yet. Just this morning, I wouldn't let him take a box of cereal home with him. I told him I paid for it and he can eat all the cereal he wants at my apartment, but he can't take it home for his exclusive enjoyment. It is, after all, my cereal.

Then I panicked because Christopher was talking about marriage again. Not in any way that applied to us, but he talked about marriage in a way that meant he understood the basic principle of it. And he said "when," not, You know, those poor suckers getting taken by the government.

And then I got kinda giddy at the our statements, as if he was talking about me. Our marriage. Our kids. But knowing Christopher doesn't like to be wrong, he's probably just finding another angle in which to be right.

I quickly recovered. "So you are talking about the marital ass? They are gambling their marital ass off?" I snickered.

Christopher didn't say anything as he picked up a new chicken wing. Maybe he wasn't trying to be right after all.