Every Day I Love You More (Just Not Today) : Lessons in Loving One Person for Life
We all know the fantasy about our other half, the person we're destined to marry and the endless love that will sweep us away. In the fairy tale, every day after the wedding is summed up the same: And so they lived happily ever after. Yet ask anyone who has woken up after the honeymoon to find Prince Charming's socks on the floor, and she'll tell you a far different story: Daily life has a way of usurping the magic-unless we learn how to make more.
Touching, perceptive, and often hilarious, EVERY DAY I LOVE YOU MORE (Just Not Today) is a guide to making love last. It celebrates the times that make married hearts soar and helps cushion the fall on those inevitable days when your prince looks a little bit froggy, like the Christmas he gives you business cards or the days he leaves his breakfast dishes on the table and his helpfulness at the office.
The truth is that while romance often leads to marriage, marriage can be the death of romance. But marriage can also provide the laughter that breaks through the tears, the tenderness that softens the stressful days, and the hope that transcends the years. For amid the little disasters of everyday life, there are always those magical moments. And whenever we spot them, we're reminded of how our love felt when it was new.
In these stories from her marriage-and those of her family and friends-Nancy Shulins describes the moments that define all our partnerships. She shows couples how to solve conflicts and bury the hatchet, how to encourage the old magic to reappear, and how to reawaken your relationship's inner child. A tale of a young woman newly in love takes us back to our own courtship days. A night out with the girls provides new strategies for dealing with age-old hassles. And the accidental discovery of a swizzle stick in a drawer shows why love's souvenirs should be saved.
You'll come away viewing married love in a new light and your partner with more loving eyes. Like a warm, heartfelt letter from a wise and funny friend, EVERY DAY I LOVE YOU MORE (Just Not Today) will leave you refreshed and inspired.
In prose that's alternately breezy and pointed, Shulins offers a collection of brief anecdotal essays on plucking out Cupid's slings and arrows and replenishing the spirit of a lifelong marriage. Many of her musings focus on keeping love alive by resuscitating old memories of falling in love. Others concern the little ways that couples ease daily friction, whether through mental exercises (such as imagining what would happen if spouses locked in a frustrating pattern were to reverse roles) or by judiciously doling out a little white lie when one's partner asks, "Do I look paunchy?" Shulins does not dwell on the difficult (she mentions her multiple miscarriages and decision not to adopt children without elaboration), and often edges into gender stereotypes and romantic cliches in her effort to lightly poke fun at long-term lovers. Readers looking for substantial insights may find her advice trite and inadequate (e.g., she advises holding hands with one's spouse at the movies as a way to spice up a too-familiar sex life, and advises full-time working mothers who still do most of the housework to "get over it"), while those looking for a sweet-tempered celebration of marriage may recoil from apparent flashes of hostility that are sometimes barely concealed in the guise of humor. Still, less sentimental readers may appreciate this down-to-earth look at making a traditional marriage last. (Jan. 9)
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.
-- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
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Grand Central Publishing
January 08, 2001
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Excerpt from Every Day I Love You More (Just Not Today) by Nancy Shulins
There are only two ways to live your life.
One is as though nothing is a miracle.
The other is as though everything is a miracle.
IT WAS SIXTEEN years ago tonight, January 29,1985, when the big, bearded man in the dirty beige parka picked me up for our first-ever date. It was a cold Tuesday evening, although we pretended it was Saturday, a little trick we perfected during the years I worked week-days and he worked nights and weekends. On that first night in New York, we ate Indian food at a hole-in-the-wall, then walked around the city, stopping for drinks every now and then to thaw out. Mostly, we talked - about life, work, ourselves-and we kept right on talking until the buses had stopped running and I had to take a cab home. Just before we said good night, we walked down a side street, past a bakery. The place was closed, but the display window was all lit up, and we paused to check out the fancy, overpriced goodies. That's when we saw it, on top of a linzer torte: the fattest mouse in Manhattan trapped inside the window, happily gorging away. The last of our first-date nervousness melted away as we stood there and laughed like hyenas. We still do, whenever one of us brings it up. It was an arresting sight, incongruous and rare, not unlike finding love on a side street at two in the morning in a city of eight million souls.
We've been celebrating that cold winter's night ever since, with candlelit dinners and long, moonlit walks, smarmy cards and champagne and tandoori, along with the occasional marzipan mouse. And while we also observe our wedding anniversary with similarly romantic gestures, I think we look forward to this even more. Because, unlike our wedding day, a day we orchestrated, planned, and rehearsed to the letter, January 29 simply happened, due to forces beyond our control. And as it unfolded, on a cold Tuesday night, the ordinary became extraordinary: the wondrous, mysterious, marvelous-a miracle, in other words.
If you think you have yet to experience a miracle, perhaps it's time to rethink what that means. The miracle that brought you and your soul mate together is the best place I know to start. Once a year, why not give it a night all its own? To look back in wonder. To give fate its due. To lift your glass to the forces that joined you.
Copyright (c) 2001 by Nancy Shulins