وصايا قيمة جدا للمتزوجين

Quote: A Man's Theory For The Perfect Marriage: by Brian Alexander the July/August 2012 issue of Brides magazine 1- Decide who's (finance) boss My wife and I have never fought over money. But we have spent endless hours in high-level financial consultations, worthy of a major bank merger, over where we could afford a lamp. I considered creating a PowerPoint presentation to better visualize our options. We'd heard so many times that most couples fight over money, we wanted to make sure even the tiniest money decision was mutual. We wound up spending more time talking finances than having sex. Finally, we decided that one of us had to take harge. I offered, she agreed, and now I'm in near-total control of our savings, investments, insurance, planning and bills. She says, 'Can we afford to buy a blender?' and I say yes or no. It's not that I crave the power. I'm just better at it and more interested. This does require a lot trust, but the sex-to-money discussion ratio is much more favourable. 2- An in-law navigation system In-laws can be wonderful. But I don't believe you marry your in-laws along with your spouse. I think you marry each other and from that point onwards you're a team with one goal: surviving family gatherings. And to do that, you need to plan. I, for example, always brief my wife of my mother's habit of making comments like: "His old girlfriend was very smart". I explain that my mum doesn't mean it like it sounds, that she make worst-sounding remarks to her own sons, that she loves my wife, and the fact that she doesn't censor herself means my wife is fully accepted into the family. Which brings me to the second required skill: telling believable lies. You must be able to this in your spouse's behalf. If your 73-year-old aunt Margaret, the one who's recently adopted a dog, wants your husband to come and celebrate the dog's birthday, you're the one who has to jump in and say: "He's so busy, I don't get to see him enough as it is". You've got to have each other's backs. You have to be willing to be the bad girl to your relatives. 3- Fitness matters: Many days, the last thing I want to do is go to the gym. But when I'm tempted to dive onto the sofa and start scanning the take-away menu, I have to remind myself that it's my duty to say healthy, control my weight and be as attractive as possible for my wife. In a real sense, my body belongs to her and hers to me. Of course, bad things happen in life. Good health is temporary - we all age - but there's not need to invite trouble. That's not sexism, its honouring the person you love. I often repeat this mantra to myself when I'm fantasizing about setting fire to the cross-trainer. 4- A separate bedroom : When we first married, I thought it would be a crisis if we ever slept apart. Since then, my sleeping wife has punched me in the face, shoved me out of the bed and onto the floor, performed aerobics exercises under the covers and talked loudly, like a drunken physicist lecturing on neutrinos: 'you grrr gaah urble 57 unh!' I've learned that the best aphrodisiac - the best relationship tonic - is sleep. This sounds horrible prosaic and nothing at all like a week in Aruba. But according to my theory of perfect marriage, both partners must be well-rested because lack of sleep makes you cranky, short-tempered and too tired for romance. Have a place where one of you sometimes retreat for a good snooze. 5- Warm and cool zones: I am almost never too hot. My wife is always too hot. She opens windows, I close them. I say, 'Let's turn on the heat,' and she says, 'No, I'm roasting!' I vote for the winter duvet. She vetoes. We've fought over thermostat settings. I admit that changing your biology to match body temperatures could be tricky, but if science ever find a way, do it. Either that, or, in your perfect house, establish climate zones, like they have in luxury cars. 6-A little mystery I also want to have separate bathrooms. I don't have them, but I want them because I don't want to know how my wife gets to be so beautiful. Like a magic show, I want to be amazed, not learn the mechanics of the tricks. And I definitely don't want much detail on her bathroom habits. If I, for example, didn't perform certain grooming tasks, my nose and ears would be thatched like bristles. I don't even like admitting that, so I certainly don't' want my wife to watch me extract them. I want her to think that I'm bristle free at all times. We've nursed each other through flu and gastrointestinal mayhem, so we're not delusion about how horrible we can look. But as much as possible, I want to be able to escape into her beauty. I also don't want a narration of difficulty. Especially if we're out, I don't want to know how she struggled to pick her outfit, or hear her doubts about whether she succeeded. I don't want to hear that her mascara is flaking off into her eyeball, or that her shoes, he ones that make her legs look goddess-like, are hurting so badly they should be banned by the UN. When she gives me a running commentary of any trouble, romance disappears and I can think of nothing else but her throbbing big toe. 7- The children conversation: The one absolute, must-have ingredient for my perfect marriage is a pact about whether or not to have kids. You'd think this would be so basic and obvious, but I've hears couples say, 'We decided to give ourselves time to enjoy being married and then talk about it.' When you are drunk with love, that kind of plan makes sense. But later, if partners don't agree, the strategy turns into marriage-killing resentment. Here's the tricky thing: men may say they're certain -especially about not wanting children - at age 22 or 25, only to think very differently at 30 or 35.