My Marriage Is Not Like Yours (And That’s Okay)

Our first house.

Years ago, when I was in the market to buy a home, I decided to buy a house without my wife knowing, and give it to her as a present for Christmas.

I knew she couldn’t handle the emotional toll and disappointment of going through the home search process, finding a home she loved only to lose it in a bidding war with a better qualified buyer and having to start all over again.

Plus, she had just given birth to our third child, so I wanted to do something nice for her that relieved stress and didn’t add more hassle or complication to her life.

This would be our very first house, so I wanted to make it really special. I wanted to get her what I could afford, and take all the burden of picking the right one off her shoulders so all she had to do was open the door and say “I’m home.”

At one point during my home buying process, a few of my coworkers found out what I was going to do, and they cornered me at the office.

As I went to leave the building at the end of the day, one of them ran in front of me, and literally closed the front door, locking it. Another man said: “We need to talk.”

I knew something serious was going on: I could see one of them literally shaking with fear and awkwardly fumbling with his hands.

My coworkers told me that buying a house without my wife knowing about it would probably be the biggest mistake I’d make in my entire life and that I’d regret it forever.

They told me that my wife might even divorce me over it.

I listened with amusement, then literally laughed out loud and said: “What are you talking about? It’s going to be fine. She’s going to love it.”

I bought the house. I was certain they’d be proven wrong and that I knew my wife better than they did.

For the next few days, I worked late in the evenings, cleaning it up, repairing what was broken, and painting the interior. I hired a crew to replace all the carpet and add beautiful, shiny hardwood flooring to the kitchen.

On Thanksgiving weekend, I took my wife out for an early morning drive, took an unexpected turn onto a street she didn’t recognize, and pulled into the driveway of a house she’d never seen before.

I handed her a set of keys and said, “Merry Christmas. I bought you this house.”

I carried her across the threshold and went inside. Playing a CD of songs that were special to us, we danced together in our socks on the brand new kitchen floor, with tears in our eyes.

It was the best thing I ever did.

Many times since that day, I’ve tried to understand why those men did what they did.

A few years ago, I finally asked one of them: “Why did you say my wife might divorce me? Was that a joke? You looked so concerned.”

His response was interesting. “No, I thought that might happen… my wife would definitely divorce me if I bought something as big as a house without her knowing.”

This was a fascinating life lesson. I told him: “My wife is different than your wife, and my marriage is different than your marriage.”

“Clearly,” he said.

On the rare occasion that people ask me for marriage advice, I’m always very careful to tell this to people.

Young men, in particular, will sometimes ask for advice about how to live with or understand their future bride. Before I say anything else, I’ll say: “My wife is different than your wife, and my marriage will be different than your marriage.”

People are different. Relationships are different. Marriages are different.

Yours doesn’t have to look like mine, and mine doesn’t have to look like yours… and that’s okay.

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