Opinion/Cotter: A couple that talks to each other? Read all about it

Betty J. Cotter (bettycotter1960@gmail.com) is a lecturer in journalism at the University of Rhode Island.

When we go out to eat, my husband likes to play a game with the wait staff.

“How long do you think we've been married?” he'll say. “Take a guess.”

He offers up some options:

“A year.”

“First date, met on Tinder.”

“Fifteen years, second marriage.”

Last week, the poor befuddled waitress didn't know what to say. I caught her looking at my hand for a wedding band or diamond and finding neither.

Finally I rescued her. “Stop it. We've been married 35 years.”

She looked stunned. I realized we've been married longer than she's been alive, probably longer than her parents have been married.

In fact, they are always surprised. Not because we look young. Because we actually talk to each other.

Glancing around a restaurant, we often see couples who are probably as old as we are, and married as long if not longer.

Husband and wife look like they are on death row choking down their last meal. Sometimes not a word passes between them.

I have never understood this. You are out to dinner! With your husband or wife! Don't you have anything to say to each other?

It's not as though Tim and I are solving the mysteries of the universe over chicken marsala. We are just catching up. Our work, the (grown) kids, weekend plans, what's in the news.

We have never lacked for topics. Maybe it's because we shared the same newspaper vocation for years. Maybe we just like talking to each other. Is that so strange?

Every weekend we have breakfast at a local coffee shop. Tim brings me hot tea and a muffin. Without being asked he takes the lid off his iced tea so I can scoop out some ice to cool off my Earl Grey.

On Saturdays, he reads me the news quiz and gives me hints on the sports questions.

On Sundays, we settle in – he reads the paper he edits, The Day, on his phone, and I scour the New York Times.

Typically something catches our attention and we feel compelled to share. Recently it was my turn.

The story was an investigative piece on a hospital chain out West. The more I read, the more outraged I grew.

“You're not going to believe this. They were dogging people for money who were eligible for charity.”

He stopped reading his phone and listened. I went back to the story.

“They had a program to do this. They called it Rev-Up.”

He shook his head. “As in revenue, right?”

“Their CEO,” I said a few minutes later, my voice rising an octave, “made $10 million last year.”

“Typical.” He returned to scrolling.

“Oh my God. They actually dressed up a mascot to exhort their employees to get money out of these people. They called him Rev-up Ricky.”

I read him the passage. He laughed.

“They paid some PR firm to come up with this! $45 million!”

Finally I folded the paper. “You'll have to read this story,” I said.

“I don't think I'll have to.” But there was a twinkle in his eye when he said it.

This article originally appeared on The Providence Journal: Opinion/Cotter: Happily married ... in so many words