The idea of marriage is a 100-100 proposition

By Hillary Rodham Clinton

On Oct. 11, my husband and I will celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary. I know it sounds corny, but we love each other more now than when we married. Like any couple that has been together a long time, we have worked hard and endured our share of pain to make our marriage grow stronger and deeper. We have encouraged and motivated each other, and we've had a lot of fun, too. And of course, most important, we've had Chelsea.

It nearly didn't happen at all. Making the decision to get married took time for me. Bill and I had begun dating in law school, but even after things got serious, I just could not bring myself to take the leap that marriage requires.

He actually proposed more than once. I never doubted my love for him, but I knew he was going to build his life in Arkansas. I couldn't envision what my life would be like in a place where I had no family or friends.

After we finished law school, we carried on a long-distance romance between Massachusetts and Arkansas that made money for the telephone companies but wasn't very satisfying for us.

Then, a year later, I took a deep breath and moved to Arkansas to teach law. It wasn't long before I found myself enjoying my work, new friends and a beautiful place to live.

One day in the summer of 1975, I had to go out of town for a few weeks, and Bill drove me to the airport. On the way, we passed a tiny brick house with a "for sale" sign out front, and I remarked in passing how pretty it was.

When I returned from the trip, he said, "Do you remember that house you liked? Well, I bought it, so now you'd better marry me because I can't live in it by myself."

That's when I finally said yes.

The house was only 1,000 square feet and had no air conditioning, but it did have a big attic fan, a screened-in porch, a living room with a beamed cathedral ceiling, a fireplace and a big bay window.

Bill had started furnishing it with some old furniture and a cast-iron bed he found in an antique store. He had gone to Wal- Mart and bought sheets with green and yellow flowers. To this day, he still jokes that he doesn't know what he would have done with that house had I said no. We got married in the living room of that pretty little house on a glorious fall afternoon and started on the adventure our life together has been.

What I've learned over the years is that there is real glory in marriage. It is a feeling that comes from knowing that no matter what trials and tribulations you have been through, you look at your spouse after all this time and still love what you see.

My husband and I rejected long ago the idea that marriage was a 50-50 proposition: We see it instead as 100-100, where both partners have to give their all and persevere through crises and challenges that inevitably arise in any couple's lives.

I'm sometimes asked, "What's it like being married to the President?" I reply that I didn't marry an office but a man and it's great being married to him.

Of course, being married to a public figure -- especially a President -- has its own challenges. For one thing, people assume they know everything about your relationship, when in reality, every marriage, including ours, is made up of moments that no one else can ever see.

There are practical concerns, too. How do you ever get any privacy as a couple? How can romance thrive when you live above the office with a round-the-clock staff?

Well, you improvise.

One night last summer, for example, when it was extremely hot and humid, we thought it would be nice to go for a dip in the White House swimming pool.

It was very late. Chelsea was away at camp. So we grabbed our towels, left the mansion, tiptoed through the Oval Office, and snuck through some bushes in pitch black. Without anybody around, we went for a midnight swim.

It will be a little too cold this week to celebrate our 20th anniversary with a dip in the pool. But I think I've come up with an equally romantic way to mark the day.

You might be able to guess what it is.

But sorry, I'm not telling.

-- Creators Syndicate