married life - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
"Baby, you're the head and I'm the heart; but I've still got a head and you've still got a heart. It's the difference between infinity and infinity plus one, but it works for me. It works for you. Our married life is perfection for me and I thank God every day for the gift of spending my life with you."
"I am only a queen because you are my king; I am only a lioness because you are a lion. I can only truly be myself when you are truly yourself. We are soulmates, pure and simple, two halves that complete one other, perfectly complimenting, yet unique."
The fisherman rubbed at his back. So long bending to sort the fish always did this. By the time he was home he was fit for nothing more than an armchair, a dinner and bed. Gone before the children awoke and in bed before they were done with homework. He was a ghost in his own home. His wife had once decided to rise with him and they went hand in hand to the pebbled shore. She had prepared nets and cleaned things that really didn't need it, but the gesture was the sweetest thing since she had agreed to be his bride. There was a girlish way about her that just didn't exist between piles of laundry and dishes. But that night she of course had to stay up until the last child was ready to sleep. That was the end of that. Early nights were only an option for him. So he carried on, rising before dawn and sleeping right after the dinner - only ever home when a storm broke. But those rain-lashed days were as good as vacations, cosy at home, all thoughts of chores quite forgotten.
The love that had been so strong between Mike and Lucy was locked tight behind ever growing wall of resentment, fear and fatigue. They wanted to be home for their kids but even two full time wages were barely adequate. Who cared if they saw their kids or not? Who? Did the President care? Did he care if their little family of love imploded from exhaustion while the media did nothing but fill them with fear and the advertisers encouraged vanity, greed and envy. How could they hold onto enough love to see them through? The tension brought bitter arguments and thoughts of other lovers. Their life wasn't matching up to the Hollywood version and all the while the celebrities grinned at them from the covers of magazines with salon perfect hair and teeth whiter than snow. Matt and Lucy didn't even have dental coverage for their children. All the while the kids were being groomed by the media and the adverts to be "good little consumers" and drilled at school rather than enthused with a love of learning and the ability to think critically. They were fodder for the corporations, raised to be put in boxes like factory farmed chickens, robots of flesh and blood being programmed by the non-stop barrage of information that said, "Be afraid, don't trust, love is something you buy, you must be skinny, indulge yourself..."
When Valentines day came Eddie had so much planned. He woke up early and rolled out of bed, moving softly down the stairs to the kitchen. He moved about the kitchen with the kind of smile on his face that couldn't hide the love that warmed him from within. Twenty minutes later he had pancakes, raspberries and freshly squeezed juice on the side. By the time he got upstairs Carl was only just stirring. He laid the tray gently on the floor and leaned in for a kiss, feeling a tingle spreading from his lips.
"Darling, I have breakfast. Happy Valentines!" Carl opened sleepy eyes and a warm grin spread over his face.
"Eddie, my love, you are intoxicating in all the right ways." After another whiskery kiss Eddie brought up the breakfast tray and set it before him.
"I have a few more surprises after this," Eddie said. Carl smiled with a mouthful of toast, crumbs decorating his beard.
"Not too expensive, I hope." Eddie chuckled and stroked Carl's hair with his hand.
"No, my love, not expensive -just a lot of fun I hope."
Benny flicked through the pages of the magazine, and as his husband watched, his scowl grew ever more pronounced. "What's up?" said Lionel. Benny closed it and curled it up into a tight tube, tapping it on his knee.
"Oh, it's nothing. Nothing. Say, you wanna go buy some protein shakes? We can hit the mall, get some new jackets, leather I think, shoes too." Lionel wasn't buying it, he knew Benny too well. But saying these things too directly rarely helped.
"Sure, Honey. Say, have you lost weight? You're looking good you know." Benny raised his eyes off the floor to meet Lionel's. He stopped tapping the magazine. His mouth twitched like he wanted to smile. "I can think of an awesome work out we can do together. Of course, if you'd rather go shopping?"
"A work out?" Benny gave up hiding his smile and grinned in a way that melted Lionel's heart every time. "I want to hear more..."
When I met you I'd already lost my entire world. How can you hang on to something so incomprehensible? How can you keep pouring love into an abyss? But then there you were. There was something in those brown eyes that was so beautiful, so safe and warm. In just one look I was "home." I reached out and made the connection, and like God Himself had arranged it, you fell for me just as hard. That first day we talked, just the two of us, I still recall the conversation, the feeling you gave. You didn't know it, but that day you saved me. We became inseparable, and though not married yet, we were one from that day on. But don't the years take their toll my love? Or perhaps it isn't time, it's this modern life we all work for, strive for, embrace while it destroys us. We work to raise a family, we love our children without bounds, and then we look at one another with tired eyes and empty limbs. I am as much in love with you today as I ever was, perhaps even more so, but I'm tired...
...It's true what they say, laughter is infectious. But you know what? I think love is too. But not in the full on laughter kind of way, but in the steady quiet lifetime of dedication kind of way. That's how it is with me and Dan. It didn't arrive slowly though, it was the clap of thunder kind, the kind that slaps you round the face like a wet kipper - kinda rude and shocking. But once you've felt love like that, you can never imagine a life without it. It can't stay as a thunder clap of course, there is laundry to do and bills to pay - but under that everyday monotony the love is still there: warm, cosy and just as real.
Kaleb hardly ever showed emotion beyond fatigue. He showed a polite interest in the lives of his family, of his wife, and otherwise kept himself to himself. But today was different, everything Annie said was wrong, when she voiced the frustrations of her day he exploded in the way he did every few years, with words that pulled no punches. He knew her better than anyone, loved her more than anyone, but in these infrequent failures to suppress his rage at the world he tore into her like only a lover can. He knew her weak spots and deepest pains - she was an easy target. He watched her face change to hurt and anger and it only served to bring his own fury to a higher boil. Annie started to pack her bag, this wasn't a time to stick around. She'd been there, done that, this never ended well. If she stayed he'd break her down into a sobbing mess, then cry himself, needing her to facilitate the reconciliation. This way the pain would last longer, but at least the cut wouldn't be so deep.
Taking two beers on the way to the television was a habit Liam wasn't prepared to break. After a day punching holes in metal he just wanted to obliterate ten hours of stress-laced boredom. Without the alcohol the sit-coms just weren't very funny. And who wants to sit there like a dummy while everyone else laughs? He chugged the first one back fast on an empty stomach to get the whole process going, then sip at the second. When Tina got home he'd yell for nachos and cheese. She'd huff and suggest he got off his "fat-ass" to get them himself, but in ten minutes he'd have them, the cheese melted on with a pile of sour cream and salsa in the middle. Perfection. For anything other than a call of nature he'd ask Tina all evening long. She'd complain, then bring it; it was the script of their married life...
With hands as gnarled as the bark he hacked and a face as browned as timber, the woodcutter was a sight only his bride could love. In the whole town only she knew what he looked like with the beard clean shaved after months of being out in the wilderness, and what he looked like in clean clothes. For when he came for those seven days with her in their cottage he never left, not once. Home was home, outside was for work. He would sing to her in gravelled tones and dance light-footed to their shared music. He would sleep heavily all night and watch her bewitched as she prepared their meals. After listening to her tales of the town he would draw her back into the bedroom. On those long trips felling trees she was all he thought about, so much so that he felt like he had to cram eight weeks worth of affection into one before he was gone again. No matter what she always cried on the seventh day, begged him to find a job in the town...but this was the best money he would ever make.