Diary of a Marriage: How Marriage Is Like a Snoop Dogg Video

Are we all eventually going to end up as clones of our spouses?


It is said that people somehow usually end up looking like their pets. I wonder how this happens. Is it a quick process—like that Snoop Dogg video where he morphs into a Doberman Pinscher in a matter of seconds—or is it gradual? And if it happens with our pets, what about with our spouses? They say opposites attract, but after that initial attraction, will we start to look like each other, to act like each other?

Are we all destined to turn into the person we married?

“Definitely,” my friend said when I posed this question to her. “I feel like my husband and I have morphed into the same person. When I met B., he basically lived in squalor. I, on the other hand, was a neat freak. Over time—actually, it seemed to happen all of a sudden”—aha! Snoop Dogg morphing!—“he has turned into this super-clean, no-food-allowed-upstairs, crumb-catching head of the household.”

Another friend has noticed it, too: “I say things that [my husband] says all the time. I suddenly like things I never used to, like hockey. But the thing I notice the most is my speech pattern. [My husband] has certain inflections that I’ve picked up on, and he definitely does and says things that I do, too. ”

“We both got fatter,” said someone else.

I wonder how far J. and I have morphed. We don’t look alike—at least, not yet (though, according to this article, it may only be a matter of time until our shared life experiences begin to reflect on us psychically)—but we oftentimes act similarly. My mannerisms have slowly started to mirror his, and vice versa, and we’ve subconsciously picked up one another’s gestures and idiosyncrasies. We use our own little brand of slang, too, and we’ve got an arsenal of inside jokes and catchphrases that we now use in our daily interactions.

“Woof,” another friend said as we walked to lunch yesterday. “That’s what my boyfriend and I say when something just doesn’t go right, or when you get news you don’t want to hear.” And if things are really grim?

“We say ‘woof.com,’” she said matter-of-factly, as if this was the most natural phrase in the world to utter.

I suppose all couples have some sort of weird little secret language. My grandparents have the same sort of accent. It’s not quite southern, but there is a distinct drawl. The word ‘mirror’ is drawn out until it’s nearly unrecognizable—’merh-raah.’ It’s not a Florida accent, either, though I’m not even sure what that sounds like. It’s their accent.

I wonder when they started to sound the same.

My grandparents also look, if not completely alike, at least like they belong together. It makes sense, like a matching pair of cards in a game of Memory. Was it always like this? Maybe J. and I will be like that someday, speaking in our own little language with matching inflection and an odd little accent, drawing out the word ‘mirror’ until it barely exists, walking slowly down the streets of Florida, stooped over with age, waving to our fellow retirees in unison.

Perhaps by this point, we’ll have started to pick up sartorial cues from one another, too. I’ll wear snazzy white sneakers and a t-shirt bearing the logo of our grandchild’s college; J. will wear a vintage Hawaiian shirt, and accessorize it with a straw hat, a chunky watch, sunglasses and an ascot. We’ll meet our friends for whatever leisure activities we do in Florida (bridge? Golf?), and as we’re walking, they’ll glance at J.’s bizarre overaccessorizing and my ugly t-shirt. Then they’ll turn to each other when we’re not looking, and mouth the words that I’ve long forgotten the meaning of:


In what ways have you noticed yourself and your significant other turning into each other? Your mannerisms, speech? Does one of you rub off more on the other? Share your experiences in the comments!






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