Hell's Kitchen Saved My Marriage

You and I weren’t seeing eye to eye the other day. Nothing specific, just a whirlwind of surprising chaos and it’s suddenly both of us out for blood.

The scene I imagine is a moseying gondola that’s been hijacked by our very worst selves there along some elegant Venetian channel — rhythmic, synchronized rows turn sloppy as our oars become sabers, leaving us squirrelly and spinning, holding up expensive boat traffic. We ruin a perfectly delicate, champagne afternoon, one that won’t ever come again in the same replicable way. I ruminate on that thought a bit. 

Shit goes south and we all get sober, isn’t that true? Time being a vapor, us being dust and that sort of thing. For a moment, we remember our enemies as existential equals and our power shifts back to the Powers That Be. One of God’s many forgetful kindnesses to us, I guess — his long future of forgiveness to a frustrating flock. 

Anyway, we put her down for bed as the chasm of a sad day narrows into sunset, praying the most behaved of the bunch could dream of something good. As for us losers, I suppose we could have talked things out over some snacks, pieced together a scattered puzzle as metaphor, made up hotly underneath cold sheets. But this night, we opted for something more mature, an intimate truce involving two separate couches, whatever drinks we would drink, and an entire Hell’s Kitchen marathon. 

We only made it half an episode before the absurdity erupted onto our stubborn silence and we laughed at long last. He has such a good laugh.

One of the girls couldn’t quit burning the Beef Wellingtons and we loosened into each other as Chef Ramsay chewed her ass up. With as much contempt as he could muster, he called another one of them a stupid, useless doughnut in response to her bland risotto. We both agreed we’re glad we love each other better than that, which isn’t saying much but it is saying something.

You turn off the tv when we’ve both had enough, and it’s right then when I realize there hasn’t been a day since we married that I’ve not gone to bed with the sinner I love. For as much hell on earth as there is to pay, there’s also no peace quite like knowing rest is coming for a tired friend.