But those days are gone. We traded the loft for a house, had a couple of kids, got some life insurance, made a will and started the slow climb toward 40. Needless to say, we don't wrestle anymore. I'm sure if we did, we'd be spending a lot more time with our chiropractor, Jay, and we can't afford that with all the other domestic expenses we've incurred.

Yet, what to do with those wacky marital emotions, all those annoying and evil thoughts we've had about each other all week? I told him to buy milk! She's frigid! I haven't had sex in three weeks! When was the last time you changed a diaper? Where are my socks? Try your sock drawer, for God's sake!

And on and on. Marriage can be one giant wrestling match of the heart, and navigating yourselves toward harmony, humor and happiness can be a mighty big challenge. Throw in a teether, a toddler and way too many sleepless nights and you've got yourself a lot of potential negative energy. The wise couple needs to have things in place. We've got our Friday night dates -- candles in the bedroom, a sex toy, a trusty babysitter, a great local movie theater and cheap Vietnamese food. But best of all, we have racquetball.

Racquetball, game of love. Racquetball, that crazy, whack 'em, smack 'em, "I'll show you who's boss" game. We love it. I think it's saving our marriage.

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