What Marriage is About: A Story about Porn and Midnight Answers

"I looked at gay porn today," I confessed to Mike.

"What?"

I explained to him that I was checking my blog when I decided to click on "Next Blog" on the top left of the screen, next to the search box.  The very next blog it took me to was apparently that of a men's magazine, and immediately male genitalia stared me in the face. A group shot of men posing so calmly and professionally, you'd think it was a J. Crew.  Except for one guy tugging on the seam of his underwear with a 'come hither' look at the camera.  

I gave an awkward laugh out into the silent apartment, then blinked slowly.  I quickly clicked on "Next Blog" again.  I was taken to the journal of a young family who had just had their second baby.  Their blog was filled with cozy photos of a newborn at that time when squished eyes not yet open, meaning only the parents speak the truth when they exclaim "How adorable!"  I sighed with relief.  

Mike stared at me from his spot on the couch, eyes squinted a bit like the baby's.  Was I messing with him?

"Did--did you 'flag' it?" he asked, like that was the only honorable thing to do.  I assured him I did, and he seemed pleased that justice had been served.

I laid in bed that night unable to fall asleep.  I had so many questions but no one to ask, like a seven-year old that had seen a football player feeling up an older sister on the other side of Mom's Toyota.  Is male nudity online aimed at men or women?  Were those men truly interested in a career at J. Crew, but perhaps they had to do male magazines, then a stint with Hollister, before becoming a face of well-structured polos and high-quality flip-flops?  Would we be blind to the pink, wrinkly ugliness of our newborn just like everyone else?  Why do I settle on Old Navy each summer when J. Crew's flip-flops are clearly superior?

Michael was asleep, but I wanted answers.  Why I thought he would have them, I don't know.  But isn't talking that kind of thing out what marriage is about?  Yes, clarifying the unspoken rules of an underground society is certainly grounds for waking up my sleeping husband.  I imagined myself desperately reasoning my philosophy of the would-be nighttime conversation with a weary, possibly angry, husband. 

"Michael, I would say, this is why we need each other.  You have to tell me who the porn was for!  Who else would answer my questions?  This is what you and I are here for.  What IS marriage--"

Mike cried out in his sleep.  The sound was terrifying in the silence, and I waited for his eyes to burst open, but they didn't.  His eyebrows were furrowed, but he stayed asleep.

"Hey, hey" I whispered, "you're okay."  I brushed his hair back from his sweaty forehead.  His face relaxed, and his breathing deepened.  He buried his cheek harder into the pillow, and I laid awake for awhile, just watching.  

I can't think of a time I've felt more love for him.  I feel asleep almost immediately, pleased with all the answers I needed.