Photo credit: Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.

Photo credit: Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.

THERE ARE TWO QUESTIONS a husband should never ask his wife. Both begin with the words, “how many?” And in a little bit of marriage memoir, I will tell you about both. The lesser of these two evil inquiries is nearly too tame to mention, of course, bringing no real threat to anyone’s domestic sense of bliss. That one has to do with sex, and how many partners a spouse might care to admit to, and really, good manners should simply prevent its asking. But it’s small potatoes, and not much of an issue. That second question, however? It’s a doozie.

It can bring down a house, a marriage, a partnership, any living-together situation in seconds, and should never, under any circumstances, be asked. And yet it was, recently, in my very own household. Be warned, reader. Be prepared.

In these days of marriage equality, I should say that there are two questions that no spouse should ever ask a spouse, shouldn’t I? So I will, because partnerships worldwide may depend on this information. And perhaps this is one of those marital messages that has not been transferred to all. So let me be the one to tell you not to ask if you want to go the distance.

Anyway, it may have been the decaff he drank by mistake, otherwise his guard would have been up, and he would have remembered the rules. I mean, he knows the rules. He knows not to ask this. We’ve been over it since he first met me, a laying down of the law from the early days when I lived in Manhattan and he visited my apartment. I made it clear then. I’ve made it clear now. This is the question you never ask if you want to stay together ‘til death do you part, especially if you’ve vowed before your friends, God, and the state of New York to do so.

And yet he asked. I’ll try not to over-think it. I’ve long thought he was in for the long haul. But questions like these can be a real indication of a problem, the setting of a thorn, the beginning of the end.

Why did he ask? I have no idea, and though the marriage is still intact, it has frayed a bit, and will need the kind of mending that only the time and talent of two devoted spouses can bring to it.

“Darling,” he began. His tone was casual as his eyes drifted for a moment from the mirror and the knot of his tie to the open door of my closet and onto the floor within.

“How many pairs of shoes are in there?”

Stay tuned.