Betty on a Box

The topic on Insight this week was Attraction. Lovely subject, attraction. I remember listening to Doctor Karl on Triple J years ago talking about pheromones and how The Pill messes with our sense of smell. This led me to theorise that the reason why most marriages end in divorce is because women are smelling the wrong partner because of The Pill.

Quick, get that Nobel Prize ready.

Anyway, while I don’t like the idea of an arranged marriage, I kinda get it. And this is something that Insight was talking about. Do we become attracted to people over time or are we instantly attracted to them? I think both. I liken mine and JJ’s marriage to an arranged marriage. We were 24, I was at Uni in the States, livin’ large, and so was he (livin’ large, that is). We’d known each other for 3 weeks, had been dating for 2 days, broke up and then got back together. And then the next day:

JJ: “Lookit Betty, this love is pretty awesome.”
Me: “Totally, JJ.”
JJ: “Well what are we going to do?”
Me: “Hmm. Well, you know I have to go back home at the end of the school year. I can’t overstay my visa.”
JJ: “Good God, no. You might end up at Guantanamo.”
Me: “Word.”

We eat another Sandinos soft taco.

Me: “Well you could come back to Oz and we could get married.”
JJ: “Can we have kangaroos at our wedding?”
Me: “Of course. They’ll probably just show up. You know they’re everywhere.”
JJ: “Ok then. And I already have a ring. I found it in the toilets at work. It’s real.”
Me: “Cool, I’m a simple girl.”

And the rest is, well, nearly 17 years is what it is. There have been fabulous ups and terrifying downs but what I think what’s always driven us is this idea that we’ll figure it out together as we go on. There are no rules. There was never any of this “don’t call before Wednesday” bullshit. No games. As my arranged-marriage pal at work said the other day: “You can’t take anything for granted. You’re learning every day.”

Because we’ve lived a great deal of our lives together, JJ and I have this agreement that if we repeat a story more than 10 years after its first telling, we will act surprised, as though it’s the first time we’ve heard it. I mean, we’re going to repeat tonnes of stories. The thing is, even now, when we repeat a story, there’s always something new to discover about it regardless of the amount of time since it’s first telling. There’s always something new to laugh about.

I’m an old-fashioned girl in some ways, so when this couple on Insight told of their 58-year marriage, it occurred to me that there was one thing they did that a lot of today’s couples don’t seem to do.

[Taken from the show transcript]

JENNY BROCKIE (host):  And Ross, what about you for Audrey, what was that initial part spark of attraction? 
ROSS POWER:  …I looked at her and I thought well, she’s good looking, she had that radiant smile, nice figure, well dressed and I just had that feeling this is going to be good.  And we’d go to work in the tram and after a while you felt comfortable and then we went on that first hike and you can see that we clicked straight away, we felt that we were like two peas in a pod and even today we still feel like we’re two peas in a pod.
AUDREY POWER:    We’re joined at the hip. 
…
ROSS POWER:   And we like to do everything together, doesn’t matter what it is or where we go or what sport we play it must be together.
AUDREY POWER:  We’re never apart.

I think that seems like the key – doing everything together. Not taking them for granted. Not over-thinking the relationship. Not analysing it. Just being with it.

An old friend of mine once berated me for not wanting to take a holiday alone, without JJ, because it makes me such a dependent wifey. Well whatever. I like to share things with JJ, ‘kay. And the result? I’ve been married nearly 16 years. And her? Um, twice divorced. Not that I’m counting.

I think we could all take a leaf out of Ross and Audrey’s love book.

So I’m (not) going to be turning 15 tomorrow. Not that you’d know it given my penchant for the fictional undead (seriously, a total obsession for vampires) and the absolute anxiety I feel whenever I have to buy concert tickets.

I’ll let it be known right from the start that, yes, I did manage to buy tickets to see Muse IN DECEMBER. I mean, how the hell do I know KNOW what I’m planning to be doing on December 14? I could be in Las Vegas (in fact, there is such a plan).

So I planned to log in for the fan pre-sale and that’s where the anxiety started. JJ and I were heading up the country estate on Thursday night. Yes, we have this Virgin wireless dongle for the Internet but who knows what can happen? Can the technology be guaranteed? Will the wireless cables freeze over? (I mean, it’s really cold up there in the bush).

I have reason to be anxious, especially after the Jimmy Barnes Ticket Fiasco of 1984. My cousin Nancy and I had saved desperately. I busted open the money box and we got to Myer at Highpoint and queued outside the doors a few hours before opening. Now, I haven’t queued up for tickets for a long time thanks to the Internet so Idon’t know what the deal is these days but there used to be a roller door and you’d be all friendly-like with the others waiting for tickets but as soon as the roller door had lifted just enough, all bets were off and the nails would come out. We’d slide under that door and run up the escalator to be the first at the real ticket queue and I’d almost piss myself waiting for the slow people in front who picked tickets for some freaking Opera or something. They were ANNOYING SLOW PEOLE and in the meantime I was imagining that all of the smart people had just picked up their phones – a spare one in the shape of a hamburger that sat beside their bed – and would call and buy ALL of the tickets and they would just sell out right in front of my face.

But that’s not how it transpired that fateful year.

Nancy and I got to the counter and we counted out our coins – seriously we had busted open the money box and we had just enough money for the tickets. But not the booking fee.

NOT THE BOOKING FEE.

But I’m nothing if not determined and we trammed our asses all the way home to beg my mum for a couple of measly bucks (which is another story).

These days you just have to hit refreshand hope you don’t get kicked off the site. And you’ve always got enough money. Thank you Mr Mastercard.

But the anxiety is still there. It is. I get the sweats, that nauseous feeling that I’m going to miss out. That every single ticket is going to sell out right in front of my face.