When Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Visions of virtual marriage.

By JB Hager, photo by Rudy Arocha

I’m starting to believe that I might be far better at a virtual relationship than actually interacting with my wife. I’ve never been great in public settings, and the last decade has reinforced that living, breathing relationships might not be necessary. Therefore, I’m starting to wonder if it might be that the wave of the future is marriages that are more virtual, less real. It’s very much a reality we might face. Online relationships seem to work very well for people. It’s when they get in the same room for an extended period that things fall apart.

If that’s a distinct possibility, I’m thinking it might play in my favor. Here are my observations based on my 18 years of marriage that might prove virtual marriage is a better thing.

The longer I’m away from my wife, the more she seems to adore me. Given a typical weekend, Friday afternoon, anything is possible and I can see the optimism in her eyes. By the time Sunday evening rolls around, she looks at me with the same sort of disgust you get at the zoo when you see an orangutan playing with his own fecal matter. If I were gone, I could only sense that the fantasy that I’m less disgusting would proliferate.

Via text, I always seem to have the right thing to say with the fewest words possible. It can be a simple check-in like “Thinking about you,” “Hope you are having a great day” or “How are you doing?” In person, I tend to muck things up, display excessive grunting, fail to pay attention or get caught doing faux pregnancy poses with my gut in the mirror. Virtually, I could monitor this behavior.

Studies show that verbal communication far exceeds that of text. They say up to 70 percent of communication comes through facial cues and tone. Those things, apparently, do not work in my favor. It’s been pointed out to me that my eyes tend to roll into the back of my head while my wife is speaking. Or sometimes, upon the simplest request, like “Could you zip up your zipper?” I let out an exhausting sigh as if I’ve been asked to turn off my Xbox. Online, there are no eye rolls or sighs.

A majority of my daily conversation via text (and back in the day via phone) revolves around the simple phrase “Where are you?” I’ve never understood this because that question always suggested to me that there was a desire for me to be in the same place as her. I later came to realize that if I was home, I was a nuisance.

If it’s a social setting, the wives quickly ditch the husbands and socialize elsewhere. Why did we come to this social event together? Why the concern about my whereabouts?

In a virtual world, my location could just be mapped—without misleading me or putting her through the effort of asking. She would just know.

I think I’m far better at flirting virtually. I have so much control of the words and no use of my hands. My words seem to win her over with messages of “Looking forward to this weekend,” “Can’t wait to see your beautiful smile” or “This bachelor party is so lame. Would much rather be watching a Meryl Streep movie with you.”

However, in person, my animal instincts kick in and I do what she calls “groping” or “heavy breathing,” neither of which seem to win her affection.

Virtually, I can even use techniques that all women are familiar with: only sharing my flattering angles in the correct lighting at the perfect time of day, or if all else fails, just share photos from a decade ago. In the real world, in real time, I’m subject to my actual, aging, bloated appearance.

I’m open to the virtual relationship. It might just be the key to our marriage lasting another 18 years, if not 50 more.

I’m sure there are those of you thinking there is no substitute for the closeness, the intimacy of a husband. I’m no dummy. Between Fifty Shades of Grey and double A batteries, I’m sure my wife would be fine with the virtual me.