Going to PJ20 with My Wife During Gm. 2 of the NLCS

This man is after our women.

I don’t have facts to back this up, but my unfailing intuition* tells me that, if there’s one problem with marriage in 2011, it’s that we ask too much of it.

*Or “mostly unfailing,” I should say. One time my intuition told me to go all-in on Crystal Pepsi. Turns out that was a “bad” “idea.”

Where our grandparents — survivors of war, Depression, and uninspired TV programming — were happy merely to find a spouse with most of the limbs in most of the right places, the husband and wife* of the modern era are now expected not only to tolerate each others’ stupid faces for 50-plus years, but also be best friends, accomplished lovers, and, in most cases, caring parents.

*Or, it should be mentioned, husband and husband or wife and wife.

The strain, I’ll submit, is too much. Healthy couples are torn asunder. Marriages fail.

Luckily for me, I’ve found an enlightened woman who shares my inspired vision of matrimony. Accordingly, my wife and I have cultivated only the lowest expectations of each other, to the point now where merely “being there” — and occasionally disinfecting the commode — satisfy the basic requirements of our blessed union.

It was in fulfillment of the former duty, however, that I found myself accompanying my wife last (Monday) night to a screening of Cameron Crowe’s rockumentary Pearl Jam Twenty. My wife, you see, is one of those women who, as a slightly younger woman, was taken by the vocal stylings and whatever-all-else of Mr. Eddie Vedder. While I don’t necessarily share the Missus’s taste in these matters, because I am afraid of love her, I went along with her*.

*Also, there was the decided chance that she would attempt to make out with the screen, and I wanted to prevent that possibility from becoming a reality.

In any case, the attentive reader will note that the showtime for said film, 7pm CT, is very similar to the starting time of the Brewers’ NLCS game against the Cardinals. The attentive reader will continue noting that I’ve become attached to this Brewer squad — although I certainly lack the strong emotional connection of a longtime fan.

Still, to assuage some of my angst at missing the bulk of the game, I contented myself with the idea that writing a brief review of the experience would make it worth a bit of my while — writing a review, that is, and popularizing my important views on marriage.

I’ve done the latter already. Here’s an attempt at the former:

On the Film in Question
The film in question is fine. If you like — or, at least, have liked — Pearl Jam, it will appeal to you at some level. As someone who has no strong feelings about the band, the charm of the movie is the sort of unabashed enthusiasm with which Crowe has made it.

On the Film in Question, Part II
Something that was less charming about the film is how my wife would sigh every time Eddie Vedder was on screen. She should stop doing that.

On Drinking Beer in a Crowded Movie Theater
We saw the film in a theater that allows one to drink beer during the show — which, once a man has been permitted to drink beer during a movie, he’s unlikely to be contented by any other arrangement after that.

On Checking the Score on One’s Handheld Device
While I could have done so, I resisted the urge to check the score on my handheld device. Ultimately, this bit of restraint was rewarding. For other people — like those myriad readers who lack “moral fiber” — such a commitment might be less rewarding.

On the Game, Its Result
The game and its result were stupid.