Hubby and I have been deliriously happy together for over thirty-five years now. From day one we’ve been living in marital bliss. People ask, “What’s your secret?” Well we don’t know. We’re as baffled by our good fortune as you are. After all, Hubby is not stunningly handsome and he’s not rivetingly exciting. Actually, he’s a bit of a couch potato a lot of the time. And then there’s me. I’m certainly not a domestic goddess (unless peanut butter and jam sandwiches counts). I don’t swoon over the man and besides that I’m rather obnoxious most of the time. “Interests?” you say. “You must have interests in common.” No! Sorry! We’re not interested in the same things either. He plays golf while I roller blade. He watches hockey while I read. He sings. I croak. What is it then? What is the glue that binds you so tightly together? We’ve asked ourselves that same question on numerous occasions and the only plausible explanation that we can come up with is that we are not happy at all. We’re really quite miserable. We’re just too stupid to recognize it.My advice to all of you young people contemplating marriage is this. If you’re smart, don’t get married. If you are contentedly stupid and your true love is as oblivious as you are, go for it. You, too, may have years of marital bliss ahead of you.