Marriage is basically one long string of compromises, mostly minor and some major. Any married person that says otherwise is either (a) gay, from the great state of Massachusetts and married to his/her clone, or (b) the leader of one of those cults that keep their wives down in the basement, visiting them occasionally to breed. I’m confident that those guys have never compromised in their relationships. Yes, I say “guys” because how many of these sex cults are dominated by women? If they are, and they look a lot like Dana Delany in Exit to Eden, please send me a brochure. Otherwise, marriage is like modified tug-of-war. Instead of a mud pit in the middle, there is mud everywhere while both combatants maintain just enough tension to keep everyone clean. Although sometimes you may let go, you know, to prove a point. Those are the fun times. By the way, I’d like to put a shout-out to a good friend who failed to warn me of “Marriage Gladiators” in advance, although he has been married since just about conception. He knows my feelings, and for him I dream a cobra climbs into his sphincter while he sleeps. Followed by a curious mongoose.

So that is what brought me to a church retreat this last weekend. Before you laugh, please let me assure you it was not “sold” to me as such when I agreed to go over a month ago. There is the act of lying, and there is “giving minimal details until waterboarded”, and this was a case of the latter. I don’t hold it against my loving spouse, although I do see some mud in her future. It was a very nice location, in the redwoods, and who doesn’t like camping? Plus it was cheap with food included. Sounds fan-effing-tastic. First disappointment – it was not camping. It was practically a motel. Second, no swimming – the pool sat there, glistening, with nary a lifeguard in site. Finally, we were on a very tight schedule of prayer, lecture, and group activities. Yikes!

I go to church sporadically to see the glow on my wife’s face, but I am not a spiritual person. Let me tell you, for the unmoved, prayer is possibly the most boring activity imaginable. Just sitting there. Also, I am not a big fan of Pastor C. My life is bookended by two famous Christian leaders – Jimmy Bakker and Joel Olsteen. Anyone my age or older knows the Bakker story – evil, money-grubbing televangelist that turned many a believer into a cynic. Joel Olsteen, on the other hand, is probably the greatest speaker I have ever seen. Warm, sincere, barely preachy, and I swear to God he doesn’t even breathe. He is nothing short of amazing. I dare you to listen to him for five minutes without being impressed. Pastor C on the other hand – well he tries. However, he is old-school (he has no clue who “Madden” is), and he knows your problem. You are a sinner. This has turned off a lot of young people in the church, and even he mentioned that there are ZERO college-aged members. “That’s because by then they know better and they discovered sex and narcotics” I thought to myself.

Apparently, he has warmed up considerably since his divorce. Could you imagine, preaching against divorce forever, believing every relationship salvageable by the grace of God, then having your wife brutally dump you? He is almost fifty, and finally loosening up. He actually quoted Ricky Martin in one of his sermons this weekend! Embarrassing as hell, but he is trying. However, he is your prototypical pastor – tall, slim, slick hair, and he blandly drives every point into the ground. Even for a pastor, he mentions God more often than Rudy Giuliani invoked 9/11. A lot of praying, a lot of confessions, blah blah. So imagine 6+ hours of this in a timespan of two days.

Needless to say, I figure two days of church retreat excuses me from an entire year of church activities.