BRIGITTE author Stefan Schwarz loves his wife. That is precisely why he wishes her a kind of house friend – someone who voluntarily watches kitsch films and visits dusty monastery ruins. It would be a win for everyone involved.
Tintern Abbey in Wales has never interested me. Neither today nor when you were allowed to travel there. Zero. I wasn't interested in how well it is preserved. I wasn't interested in how many poets and painters, and others, who languished after morbidity and decay, inspired them. For me it was and is a pile of stones. So I was bored to death.
Oh god, you're going to say what a mess. And when you find out that I am married, you will say: The poor woman! You are right. My wife loves ruins. I hate ruins. I am in my mid-50s. If I want to see something that breaks down slowly, I stand naked in front of the mirror. But my wife is different. She stalked across the grass in the nave and took "mystical" photos, all of them sublime sighs of finiteness. I checked my watch. The cafes all looked like the Welshman was closing early. Miserable ruins without blueberry muffin in the stomach would be too much for this vacation day. So I groaned. So loud that other, of course German tourists turned to us.
How does the woman stand with this man? you're probably wondering. Or think: I would have sent it long ago into the desert. In my defense, I would like to say: I am an excellent cook. I am well-read, informed and eloquent. And I like to go to the opera. I can dance at the tournament level – standard and Latin. You don't send that kind of thing lightly into the desert because of a fifth of intolerance.
Still, I feel a little sorry for my wife. Back then she went with me on a life full of vacations without knowing that I hate ruins. Since she cannot live without moss-covered Celtic crosses or local monasteries, such trips would be better – with another man. An admirer. A person who excitedly shouts in the car: "Just look! There seems to be an old abandoned building over there! Let's go there, dear K …!" (Because, of course, he would address my wife by her first name, but siezen.) Yes, I confess: I wish my wife an admirer. A house friend, as was said earlier, of course with the best manners. She deserves someone to share with her all the passions that I don't share.
For example, she likes to watch films with women who are diagnosed with a fatal disease and then really start to live again. Here too, a family friend has his appropriate place. At your side. She could sob at the inevitable end and have a hand to press next to her. She wouldn't find mine because I had been sweating my lymph nodes for an hour and a half.
Another application: my wife likes to visit "Classic Open" in the open. I consider outdoor concerts with classical music to be auditory barbarism. Now several federal states want to consider smaller open-air concerts. How wonderful – so for my wife. It would be even more wonderful if she had someone else by her side who carries the picnic basket and unscrews the piccolo while trying to make herself comfortable in the grass, at a distance of 1.5 meters, to no avail.
If I think about it that way, my mother could have used a family friend. Only once, when I was four years old, had a daring mustache circus performer on the street approached her and begged her to run away with it, but my mother had not accessed. Nor was she entirely free to make a decision. I was standing next to it. She often said: You can't have everything in life. That meant that although my father was a nice husband, he unfortunately tended to drink beer and brandy at festivities, in quick succession. So when everyone went home my mother still had to organize the transportation of a helpless person. With a family friend in the background, she might have found the courage to leave them at the bus stop and go for a moonlight walk with Hans-Werner.
My wife is now taking the camera down and looking at me. The sun sets and creates perfect light for the super romantic, weathered Gothic arches of Tintern Abbey. For me, the chances of a blueberry muffin with cream tea decrease with the sun. "Come on, pull yourself together for a quarter of an hour now!", She says. I don't like it when my wife speaks to me like a toddler. That's why someone else should be here. Someone who is never hungry and who takes her hands afterwards and says: "In this place I feel as if we have met in a life long past." Then a romantic shiver would tickle my wife's back.
If I said that, she would only smile forcedly because she knew: I am not serious. I can't be serious because we met in the past – and stayed together. An admirer, on the other hand, means everything seriously. It brings the freshness of expectation, the "Who knows …?" in the game. My wife could imagine all sorts of things with him and play a little with the fire without burning the whole hut right away. Because unlike a real new partner, a family friend is accompanied by a wonderful non-commitment. You don't have to introduce him to your children, and there is no obligation to inform parents or groups of friends.
Before you call: stop! How about when the bored husband moves himself out of the comfort zone and becomes another one so that his wife gets vibrations again !? Then I can tell you: this is popular advice in our self-management world, but it has a few snags. The first is the time it takes. If the toilet flush is broken, you can "develop" into a plumber or order one. (I am in favor of the latter.) And it is certain that in our times it is easier to find a friend who can quote William Wordsworth's Welsh walks from the head than a plumber who offers appointments before 2022.
The second problem is that many women want their husbands to change, but are horrified when they do. For example, if you've never done dirty talk as a man in bed, you can't just start it. In the best, but unlikely case, you only get a surprised "I don't know you at all!", In the worst case, "What just got into you !?". And here is my real ulterior motive: House friends only fit into the precisely fitting gap.
In addition, my wife would quickly realize that romance can be exhausting. Always keep the tension, never let yourself go. Besides, she would notice that her admirer also has quirks, he purses his lips before he sips his wine, or likes to say "wonder bear!" says. You might not want that all year round. And that is why my wife, thanks to my family friend, might see my musty times with kind eyes. With which everyone would get some of it in the end.
Stefan Schwarz is a journalist, writes plays and television, also novels and non-fiction; recently "The Little Garden Failure" was published (Aufbau Verlag). He lives in Leipzig with his wife, children and allotment garden – but still without a family friend for his wife.
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