By Darryl
Comstock
A prosperous businessman, a
Mr. Warm, was entertaining a new client in a distant city one evening. After a
sumptuous meal, they
talked quietly as they waited for dessert to be served. The talk
suddenly
changed from commerce and industry to more personal matters as the client, Mr. Seeker, laid down his napkin and
asked, “Tell me, Mr. Warm, are you married?”
“Oh, yes,” the businessman quickly replied. “I certainly am,” and a look of smug satisfaction
spread over his countenance. “And
you?”
Mr. Seeker looked a little
downcast. “No, I'm not,” he replied “But,” and his face brightened, “I am interested; that is, when the right girl comes
along. Do you recommend it?”
“By all means. It is the only way to
live. By the way, my first name is Luke,”
he said. “May I call you
Earnest?”
“Why certainly, Luke,” replied the client. “Tell me, since you advocate married
life, can you give me some reasons? Why would it be an advantage for me to
become a married man? After all, I have a certain amount of freedom now that I
would lose if I committed my life to another person.”
“Give you reasons?” Mr. Warm looked puzzled, hesitated
thoughtfully, and then said, “Well,
for one thing, it is the thing to do. Most people are married. In fact, most of
the very best people are married. As a married person, you find yourself accepted. It is a
real advantage in the business world.”
Mr. Seeker looked
disappointed. “Is that
all?” he asked.
“Well,” replied his dinner companion, “there is a certain sense of security
in knowing that you have a home to go to, that someone cares for you if you get
into trouble.”
Mr. Seeker's frown turned
suddenly to a smile. “Yes,
that's more of what I had in mind—someone
to care for you. Tell me about her.”
“About who?”
“Your wife, of course.”
“My wife?” Mr. Warm looked blank at first, but
then quickly added, “Oh,
yes, my wife. Well, of course, she's a very good person, a very good person.” He repeated the phrase with emphasis,
nodding his head solemnly.
“It must be wonderful to be in love,” said Mr. Seeker a bit wistfully.
“In love?” Mr. Warm looked puzzled. “Just what do you mean?”
His new
friend felt suddenly embarrassed. Perhaps his question had been too personal.
He finally managed to blurt out, “Well, you—you do love your wife, don't you?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Mr. Warm replied with an uneasy
gesture. “All husbands
love their wives.”
“And she loves you?”
“Of course, a great deal. At least
that's what I am told.” This last remark was somewhat puzzling to Mr.
Seeker, but not wishing to offend, he decided to let it drop. After a pause he
stated. “You must miss
her terribly while you are gone on these business trips.”
“No, not so much,” replied Mr. Warm, matter-of-factly. “The important thing, you know, is the
marriage itself. Just knowing that one is married is enough.”
Mr. Seeker found it hard to
understand how a person could be perfectly content about being separated from
the one he loved, and he decided to pursue the matter further. “How often do you get home to see your
wife?” he asked.
“Home? I've never been home.”
“You've never been home?” Mr. Seeker was incredulous.
“No, I've already told you, the thing
that counts is being married,”
Mr. Warm said with just a trace of irritation in his voice.
“But, Luke,” his companion exclaimed, “don't you want to go home? Don't you
ever plan on going home?”
“Oh, yes, I'll go home someday, I
suppose. Everybody does. I am told that it is a very nice place. But in the
meantime, I believe in enjoying life to the full.” He took in his
surroundings—the plush
restaurant where attractive waitresses moved among
the richly arrayed tables, serving the finest in food and drink.
“But don't you ever have the
desire to be with her?”
“Who?
You mean my wife? Oh, I suppose that will be nice when the time comes,” replied
Mr. Warm as he glanced quickly upward.
Mr.
Seeker was having difficulty finding very much that was appealing about this
kind of marriage. Maybe he just didn't understand. He decided to ask another
question. “I suppose you and your wife visit frequently on the phone,” he said.
“No,
almost never,” replied Mr. Warm, suppressing a yawn. “We used to talk on the
phone right after we were first married, but then business picked up, and I
just don't seem to have the time anymore. About the only time call now is when
I need something, and believe me, that isn't very often. I can pretty well take
care of myself.” He glanced impatiently at his watch. “I wonder when that
dessert is coming.”
“But
what about letters? Doesn't she ever write to you?” Mr. Seeker was desperate
now, trying to find something in his host's relationship with his wife that
would reveal genuine love and companionship.
“Letters?
Why, yes, she's a good wife, as I've told you. Writes regularly.”
Mr.
Seeker looked relieved for the first time in some minutes. “I'll bet you look
forward to them.”
“No,
not particularly. The fact is, I never read them anymore. They are all the
same. Once you've read one, you've read them all.”
During the course of the conversation
it would have been evident to an onlooker that Mr. Warm was becoming
increasingly bored with the topic under discussion, but then his eyes lighted
up with sudden interest, and he found it difficult to contain his enthusiasm as
he leaned toward Mr. Seeker and said in a low voice, “Don't look now, Earnest,
but here comes the dessert, and get a load of the dish that's bringing it! Now
take a lesson from the old pro. I'll have her name and phone number before she
brings us the check.”
“But,
Luke,” Mr. Seeker sputtered in surprise, “is this what it means to be married?”
“Quiet!”
Mr. Warm hissed, and then with all the charm he could muster he turned to the approaching.
Waitress and said, “Hey, that dessert looks good, honey, but I'll bet it isn't
half as sweet as you!”
Insight, January 2, 1979
