My across the walk neighbors are nice people. They have parties ever week, but they’ve never gotten out of control and always wrap up by 1 a.m., which is acceptable in my book. They are always courteous and we make little conversation when we see each other. They’re always inviting us to come over when they have these little parties, but we never do.

Part of it is because, well neither Ben or I have much interest in the college-type party scene anymore. You know the freeze your bollocks off standing outside while swigging cheap beer kind while playing loud music, etc. kind of thing.

The walls of our apartment are pretty thin so when they are all outside I can hear everything that is said. Last night it was this gem…

“Yeah, this my fiance…. (mumble, mumble)…. yeah, she’s celebrating…. she got divorced today and is burning her old marriage certificate….”

I’m not going to get on my soapbox here about everything I find horrible about what I over heard… much. I’m not against divorce. Sometimes its necessary; as not everyone gets married for the right reason, with maturity and consideration. Sometimes one of the people, or both just end up being horrible. There a numerous reasons.

It’s not divorce I’m against, but a willy-nilly lack of respect for marriage.

When Ben got home they of course asked us to come over and he declined and I launched into a longer version of my soapbox with him and then stopped and apologized.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m really not becoming some kind of self-righteous prude but…”

He interrupted, “But we’re people who respect marriage and what it stands for. I got ya’.”

He smiled and continued to eat his dinner and I knew he understood what I meant and I knew that he’s taking this seriously too.

I’m not a gushy, mushy romantic type person; in fact I’m very anti-mushiness. However, that moment to me was better than a hundred bouquets of flowers and stupid stuffed animals because “he gets it”.