Another friend standing nearby, a young, single woman not much older than The Lad, raised an eyebrow.

"Absolutely," I said without skipping a beat. "I have a wonderful wife and children who adore me. The food is great. And I don't have to buy my own underwear."

The Lad frowned. What about the freedom, he asked. Come and go when you want, sleep in, get drunk and watch football, date the waitress and her friend, stuff like that?

"That was then, this is now," I said. "Believe me, even though I don't know where my money goes or my inseam length, I'm happy."

Most of the time I'm too busy to ponder what it would be like to be single, although I have to confess, it has crossed my mind.

Having a long-term commitment — a marriage — is a wonderful thing, I told The Lad. But it takes daily maintenance.

What I should have said is that a marriage is more like a baseball game in extra innings than a boxing match that goes on and on. The struggle is more appealing than the bruises. It's not about winning.

Or maybe it's like a block of stone that sits before a sculptor. It has an appeal, the promise of something wonderful, the lure of possibility.

As time passes, and you chisel at the surface, its true beauty is revealed.

Unfortunately, some marriages are more like ice sculptures. They look great for a while and then all of a sudden, someone is standing in a puddle of ice water.

The first real battle of my marriage centered on freedom, I told The Lad. I thought I could do what I wanted, whenever I wanted without consequence. In those days, my idea of a normal day meant kayaking at dawn and lifting weights in the evening.

(That I ever had time to date Mrs. G. seems amazing to me now.)

But marriage changed the relationship. Mrs. G. wanted to know when I was coming home from work, how often I planned to work out and where, exactly, would there be time to be with her.

It took a few rounds to figure that out.

And the result is something amazing to me. I have more freedom than ever. All I have to do is ask.

The Lad wandered away, clearly puzzled.

I don't think he heard my parting shot though: Sure, I'd have more freedom to wake up hung over. But where would I get my underwear?