I’m not exactly sure after how many years on average it is, but there’s a point in marriage where you just develop acceptances of some things. Things that you’ve come to honest terms with, like your partner not actually paying a single molecule of attention to what you’re saying.

When you were first courting, you probably hung on every single word each other said. That’s just the brain-damage that new love does to a human being, though. Not every damn thing your special someone says is going to be a passionate, brilliantly written monologue from Gary Oldman or Meryl Streep.

I grew up seeing reruns of shows with the uninvolved stereotype of a dad, hidden behind a newspaper, nodding out an “mmm-hmm” every once in a while to a chatty wife or kid. But it’s not a “dad thing,” we all do this. Because, frankly, some of what our spouses say is really f*cking boring to us. And, let’s face it, some of what we say ourselves is the verbal equivalent of watching dead grass grow.

When love matures, the pretense of slap-happy teenage rapture at what they’re saying isn’t just not necessary, it’s annoying. The acceptance of another that comes with love includes the mutual acceptance of how boring some of the sh*t we say is to the other.

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