Seahorses

     I have come to decide that seahorses just may be the most enlightened creatures in the animal kingdom.  I came to this conclusion when I learned that it is male seahorses who carry their young.  That's right, it's the daddy seahorses that get to deal with the roller coaster of pregnancy.  I can just imagine a little colony of pregnant male seahorses on miniature sea couches downing pints of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food and griping about their swollen fins.  The females implant the eggs and literally swim away.  They do not spend one minute bloating or puking.  They meet their girlfriends at the reef where they all chat about how fat their mates are getting.  After the male births the seahorse babies, he also swims away.  So, perhaps "enlightened" wasn't the best choice of word, but it's a nice idea, the male seahorses taking on  a burden which is typically carried by females in the animal world.
     It's Valentine's Day, so I'm going to be mushy.  I married a seahorse.  I have been blessed enough to marry a man who carries so many of my burdens for me.  When we first met and started dating, it was all doe eyed, star crossed, nauseating fluff.  It was long stemmed red roses and love letters and secret rendezvous.  These cliched romantic gestures still crop up occasionally and are always a nice surprise.  I loved the smiling, wiry, twenty-two year old baby face who courted me.  But, over the last ten years, I have come to love the man who changes diapers that weaker men would dry heave over; the man who won't let me wash a dish after I've prepared a meal; the man who makes the best scrambled eggs in the world; the man who folds laundry on an almost nightly basis because he knows it's my most despised chore; the man who gets up at night with a crying toddler; the man who has spent as many late night hours in the rocking chair with crying babies as I have; the man who always mows the lawn, shovels the driveway and takes out the trash; the man who brings home a pint of Haagen daz when I have the "mean reds", the man who watches romantic comedies and Downton Abbey with me because he knows I like them; the man who lets me put up a still life in place of his beloved George Washington picture.  In short, I have come to love the man who always puts me before himself.  I'm sure if it were humanly possible, he would have taken the burden of pregnancy from me as well.
     I used to think that love had to mean over the top romantic gestures.  I now realize that love is built on sacrifice and tears, on long days and longer nights.  It is born of mutual respect and admiration; of striving together to become the best people you can be.  I am blessed enough to be married to a man who puts me before himself.  I am also blessed to be married to a man who I not only love, but who I like immensely.  He is my best friend. I would rather spend a night with him in pj's with a bucket of popcorn and a stupid movie than a night out on the town with friends.
     It is a common misconception that seahorses mate for life.  Most species of seahorses change partners several times throughout their lives.  In this regard, I don't think Dirk and I will be like seahorses.  I like to imagine us fifty years down the road, hunched over the table in terrycloth robes, enjoying a plate of the world's best scrambled eggs, courtesy of my very own seahorse.