Have you ever noticed that many if not most motion picture love stories end at the wedding? The opposite is true of television shows. Our favorite sitcoms and drams often pick-up the human story line after the nuptials. And these can't decide whether they love or hate marriage. We see this clearly represented by the lead characters--the wives and husbands--who can't decided if they love or hate each other. Single episodes consistently depict couples at odds with one another (for whatever reason) for nearly the entire twenty-two or forty-three minutes. 

Invariably something bad has happened. Nine times out of the ten the husband has messed up--forgot the kids at school, didn't clean-up after himself, or looked wantonly at another woman. Often the wife responds with some passive-aggressive or heavily sarcastic remark about her husband's incapacities or perhaps retaliates by joking about one of her old flames who would have never done such a thing to her. 
Enter the drama.

Few words describe popular characterizations of marriage better than drama--way too much for your mother. Interestingly the dramatic momentum which carries the audience through ninety percent of a show is often remedied by a solitary good deed (usually performed by the hapless husband) like buying flowers, doing the dishes, or not going to hang out with the guys one night. A quick, selfless act extinguishes the drama--at least until the next episode. 

At first blush it seems marriage has been honored and another show nicely ends; everybody is happy and credits roll. However the subversive message being communicated in each episode is that marriage is drama and recurring craziness in marriage is easy to fix. It only takes 22-43 minutes, right?

Now is probably a good time to say that I love my wife. I love being married to my wife. I love waking up early in the morning and working-out at the YMCA with my her. I love Philz Fridays--walking to a coffee shop, reading, and talking about all that has happened during the past week. I love coming home from work and having lunch with her. I love Netflix at the end of the day. But it's not very dramatic. And it sure isn't simplistic. I guess no one is going writing a television show about our marriage anytime soon.

Usually this kind of stuff is completely lost on popular culture, relationships, and media expression of holy matrimony. Walks to coffee shops? Lunch? Netflix? An enjoyable, (nearly) dramaless marriage? Media marriages are not made of such things. Having lunch together in the middle of a normal day isn't exciting. Good television doesn't consist of people just watching television. If a husband and wife didn't consistently find themselves at odds with one another, we'd probably change the channel. 

It would be boring. Admit it. 

Without even realizing it, many of us have grown disinterested in good, steady, healthy television marriages. Mostly because they are so hard to find. But the other night, Laura and I were enjoying another boring night of Netflix and stumbled across White Collar.

White Collar is a show about an ex-con who joins forces with the White Collar Crime Division of the NYC FBI. Amid the dramatic story lines of each show, there is a steady, boring, loving, and faithful marriage. I almost didn't recognize it. Right in the middle of chasing art thieves, shutting down gambling rings, and arresting money printing scammers, Agent Peter Burke calls his wife. This husband and wife check-in with each other all the time. Each of them even drive home from work in the middle of the day and have lunch together. When they can't make it home they meet for lunch at 30 Rockafeler Center--bad green screen and all--and just talk. Through it all they hug, kiss, and finish their Skypes dates with encouraging "I love you's" and enthusiastic can't-wait-to-see-you salutations. It's kind of peaceful and healthy...and boring.

Shockingly their marriage isn't the catalyst for the show's drama, its a break from it. 

I think that's what marriage was always supposed to be: a connection and place of peace in the middle of an otherwise pretty chaotic life. It's a relationship that emanates hope, not despair to the world around it. A hope that audaciously suggests that peace, beauty, and love are possible here and now. Marriage is a picture of a kind of reality that may not be pervasive but is nevertheless possible. A husband and wife have the opportunity every day, whether walking, drinking coffee, or just checking-in to reflect a greater purpose and a bigger story than any drama can depict. And being a part of something like that is anything but boring.