Hollywood has given us two, equally false, notions of marriage. Either it’s the joining of two gorgeous young people ‘destined’ to be together, or as a wheezing and cold institution inhabited by miserable and middle-aged wheezebags, usually meant to illustrate a counterpoint to the love the gorgeous young couple in the film will share once their destinies are realized, and they are able to finally be together against all odds. Yawn. Boring. Wrong. […] It’s doing laundry. It’s paying bills. Cleaning the kitty litter. Marriage is a hundred thousand tiny tasks you share. It is peeling vegetables and changing lightbulbs and giving each other quick kisses and wishing for each other ‘a nice day.’ It is coming home and smelling dinner cooking, and running out on a cold winter night for antacid because she has a headache and cannot sleep. Sometimes marriage is being pissed off at each other for weeks at a time. And sometimes it’s walking into your children’s bedrooms and watching them sleep.
Michael Ian Black, “Why, When It Comes to Love, Hollywood Isn’t Doing It Right” (via hearthcricket)
He kinda nails it here. Damn.