Spelling Out a Better Marriage With Wordle

It must have been about a month ago that my wife got on board the trendy train with Wordle. I didn’t know much about it, that is to say, that I had “heard” the name, understood it was a game, and assumed it was as addictive as its word puzzle predecessor, Words With Friends, to which I was seriously attached. I’d had my overdose, put myself in vocab-rehab, and then returned to an acceptable level of normalcy to function through the world.

But, my wife is persistent. Throughout our marriage, she has helpfully pointed out many things that I would find undeniably fun with her gentle but not debatable statement, “You’re going to love it. Trust me. I know what you think is fun. Just do it. It’ll be great!”

It’s hard to argue with that level of happy manipulation. So, after her second evening in a row of cajoling me into playing Wordle with her, I did what a good husband does; I listened.

I should make a key point here. Listening to your spouse does not automatically mean that you agree. The option to disagree is still yours, which is an action I support and encourage. So, if you want a marriage you can be proud of, disagree with your spouse on a semi-regular basis. And if you’re a good listener, you will even hear them thank you somewhere down the road.

Back to Wordle. I agreed to try it out, but I drew the line at downloading the app, which I stated adamantly.

“I’ll play, but I don’t have time to download the app and waste hours every day playing this game,” I said.

“It’s not an app. You can’t play all day. You get one Wordle a day; then you have to wait until the next day to get one.” My wife explained.

“Well, if you don’t download an app, how do you get a Wordle?” I asked.

“You just get one. It’s just there.” She explained.

I looked around in silence for a moment, then, needing more information, I asked my wife, “What do you mean you just get one?? Where does it just show up? Do I just say “Wordle,” and it appears on my screen?”

“There’s no need to be difficult,” my wife replied, instantly dropping the affectionate tones in her speech. “If you don’t want to play, don’t play. I just thought that as my husband, you might be interested in doing something together with your wife.”

“Okay. I’ll play.” I said, having decided that wearing the selfish coat of shame and guilt was less than admirable.

“Yay!” she said, her voice again bouncing with her sweet notes of happiness. “You’ll probably beat me with all the writing and reading you do, but I am much more patient than you.”

“How are we playing against each other? Do we take turns guessing letters or alternating lines? This is a two-player game?” I asked.

“No. You play on your own. It’s one game; everyone gets the same Wordle to solve.” She said.

After texting me the NY Times Wordle game link, I tapped, and the Wordle grid appeared. My wife explained the rules; grey tiles mean those letters are no good, yellow tiles mean the letter is good but in the wrong spot, and green is bingo. Then it was game on.

Day 1, Game 1: My tactic produced immediate results. I got the word on the second line.

“Well, that didn’t seem so hard,” I stated, flaunting my decisive win nonchalantly.

“Beginner’s luck.” Replied my wife as she sat stewing over her unsolved box and was already on the fourth line.

Day 2, Game 2: “Hmm, look at that! Second-line again!” I said, getting up from the chair and moving on to other tasks. Then, tossing words over my shoulder, I said to my wife, “Are you sure you want to do this every day? What line are you on?”

Wife-”Fourth line. I don’t want to play with you anymore.” She stated flatly.

My wife is ultra-competitive when involved in any game or sport. The woman doesn’t exactly hate to lose, so much as she loves to win.

“Okay. I am busy.” I agreed.

“Yes. You do have things to do. Don’t you…have so many things to do? Your time is precious.” She said.

It’s that tone and delivery I don’t like. I’m never sure if she’s agreed with me, is scolding me, or silently conjuring up a hex on me. Nevertheless, a few days went by without my joining in her post-supper Wordle play.

A few days later, while sitting in the chair catching up on the latest war news, I glanced over at my Missus scrolling on her phone. I thought about how invested I’d become with my writing, reading, and studying to improve my writing. I would write straight through from morning to night if I had it my way.

Sometimes, I even imagine a different world, where I sit at my desk, in a nice study, in a large, turn-of-the-century home free from the travesty of drywall, with real wood everywhere.

A fireplace, of course, burning hardwood throughout the day. And when I leaned back in my chair reviewing my latest paragraph of epic prose, it would be with a pipe stem between my lips and its warm bowl in my hand. Rings of rich blue smoke puffed out and floated to the ceiling.

Naturally, I would have a servant girl employed. Ready to bring me coffee, tea, sandwiches, and cookies. She would be attentive and empathically concerned with my well-being, bringing me food and making sure I stop and eat.

I picture her being somewhat mousy but clever. Of course, she would be very pretty, but she wouldn’t let that distract me. I see her wearing a bonnet with thin wisps of stray hairs, loose and curled over her ears. She has a short name, like Ann, Beth, or Mary. Most importantly, she thinks I’m brilliant and is devoted to me.

“I’m thankful Putin didn’t invade Hungary.” My wife said, commenting on the news and snapping me out of my daydream. “If it were Hungary, you’d probably be like those Ukrainian-Canadian men going to Ukraine to fight the Russians. Would you go? Would you leave us to fight for Hungary?”
“If my father were alive, almost certainly. It would have satisfied his dream for us, going back to defend Hungary and kill as many Russians as we could.” I answered honestly.

“It’s terrible. Awful. All of it. How can Putin even get away with it in this day and age?” My wife asked.

I turned off the tv and told my wife that there was too much bad news in the world.

“Let’s Wordle,” I said.

My wife looked at me, smiled, and said, “Okay!”

We’ve been “Wordling” together every day. Sometimes she will call “Wordle” to me; sometimes, I’ll call it to her. But every night, we sit in the same room –strategically positioned to prevent screen stealing glances-and compete to complete the puzzle.

It’s fun, competitive, and on occasion, it gets a little nasty.

“Hmm, I got it on the third line again. So that’s three days in a row I’ve beaten you now?” my wife’s happy voice cheerfully chirps at me.

“Yes.” I reply, “There’s no need to be such a braggart.”

“It’s because I’m much more patient than you. I’ll search out all the possibilities before guessing a word.” She explains. “You’re too rash. You think you have it, and you blast a word in too quickly. So you solve the Wordle faster, but I do it in fewer lines.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” I answer, annoyed.

“Don’t be grumpy. It’s true. You get higher points for fewer lines, not how fast.” She states as though she invented the game.

“Okayyy…” I reply, then under my breath but still audible add, “kind of being an ASShole.”

She breaks out laughing, “Did you call me an asshole?”

“Maybe,” I answer, “I’m not sure. I wasn’t listening.”

This is how it’s gone since then. Each night it’s fifteen minutes or so, where we choose to be in each other’s company. The rules are simple. All’s fair in love and war.

We tease, taunt, pressure, and poke.

“Oh! Good start for me! The first line, three letters, two in the right spot!”

“Grr! Not me. No letters first line.”

“You need to use more vowels in the first word.”

“I know how to play.”

“Don’t get frustrated; I’m being helpful.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Damnit! I thought I had it for sure!”

“Me too. This one’s tough. I can’t see any more words.”

“Santa, isn’t a word? Did you know that?”

“Of course. Santa is a name.”

“Isn’t a name, a word? That doesn’t make sense. I think you make things up.”

“Well, it’s not a word in Wordle.”

It’s a silly game, but aren’t those usually the most fun? For us, this simple game offers much more than solving a puzzle. It’s a connection. A window of time to talk and play together free from the hefty worries of the world, where we revisit two people who enjoy each other’s company.

So, while Wordle is the new fad to take the world by storm, it’s also a piece of the puzzle that helps make our marriage a pleasant place to be for another day.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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