My Funny Valentine

"Need I say more?" I once asked my wife Elvira.

"No," she replied. "You need to say less."

"Sometimes I suspect you like to ridicule me," I said.

"That's because you give me so many opportunities," she riposted.

So goes our marriage, now pushing 46 years. We married out of love, of course. But we also married each other for funny.

Lucky us. Humor can turn out to be healthy for couples. Numerous studies conducted in countries all around the world over the last 40 years or so have found that a little levity can promote a sense of connection, intimacy and stability as well as forge the feeling we're understood and appreciated.

Elvira always knows just what to say to me the second I enter a room. "You again?" she says.

One day, as I was about to leave our house, I asked her, "Are you sure you're going to be okay here without me?"

"Will I be okay?" she answered. "No. I'll be better."  

Returning home, I tried to be cute and said, "I can only imagine how happy you must be to see me again."

"That would take a lot of imagination," she said.

Romantic partners ranked humor the second most important predictor of relationship satisfaction. A 2023 study reported people with higher relationship satisfaction use more humor, valuing and receptive listening to regulate their partners' emotions. Research has also revealed that couples who engage in humor can distract themselves from distress and lower stress, resolve conflicts and disagreements, and better cope with hardships.

Yeah, that sounds about right. The other day Elvira and I got into an argument. Wishing to restore harmony, I said, "What have I ever deprived you of through all these years except desirable company?"

Luckily, she laughed, as intended. Argument over.

Early on, we established an equitable division of labor. I get to play straight man and she gets to deliver the punch lines.

"Anything you need from me for the rest of the day other than my absence and silence?" I once asked her.

"No," she said. "That should about cover it."

Recently we enjoyed a quiet evening at home eating dinner while watching a movie. "I've so enjoyed our time together tonight," I said, albeit half-facetiously.

"I'm glad someone did," Elvira retorted, on to me from the get-go.

On another occasion I blurted a wisecrack, even as I winced sensing a backlash in the offing.

"Other people think you're smart," Elvira said. "But I know better."

Yes, folks, the quips just keep coming, so much so that I've dubbed my bride the Queen of the Comeback. And I usually have only myself to blame.

"Are you reading my mind again?" I asked Elvira after she anticipated the very words I was about to say.

"Any time I feel like reading something stupid," she replied, "I'll read your mind."

"How come you never give me credit for anything I get right?" I once asked her, expecting the worst.

"As soon as you get something right, I'll give you credit for it," she sallied.

"Is this how you treat someone you love?" I then queried.

"No," she said. "This is how I treat you."

But hey, people, I'm no masochist. No, no, no. Because I believe in quid pro quo, every once in a while I challenge these human-rights violations and give as good as I get.

The other day, Elvira accused me of being argumentative. "I disagree," I said.

"Believe me," I once told her, "your happiness comes second only to mine."

Ours is a mutual admonition society, the two of us natural-born insult comics. Any time Elvira says I never listen to her, I remind her timing is important and she should talk to me only when I'm listening.

As luck would have it, humor is a language Elvira and I have long spoken fluently. We crack wise, take potshots, tease unmercifully, call each other silly names and make silly faces, gestures and sounds. Our comic antics span the spectrum from the cerebral to the clownish.

We have a premarital history in this department. My high school graduating class of 700 students voted me "Class Clown" (male division). As for Elvira, she was given as a girl to entertaining family gatherings impersonating Carmen Miranda dancing and singing "The Lady In The Tutti Frutti Hat."

But beware. Research also shows that couple humor can come with a catch. Just as it can help, it can also hurt.

Your partner may perceive your negative humor – put-downs, sarcasm and mockery – as aggressive, judgmental and downright hostile, studies suggest. Such attempts at hilarity may prove embarrassing and demeaning, mask rather than reveal your real feelings and corrode your marital health. Indeed, a small study provocatively titled "Bad Humor, Bad Marriage" found that antisocial humor from men and self-defeating humor from women proved to be predictors of divorce.

Yup, that sounds about right, too. Elvira and I typically banter playfully, but sometimes the bantering lapses into bickering and the bickering into backbiting.Once, after an attempt at witticism fell flat, I asked her, "When did you stop knowing how to take a joke?" "Probably," she said without missing a beat, "right around the time you stopped knowing how to make any."

Early in our marriage, Elvira regularly accused me of kidding around too much — full disclosure: guilty as charged — only for me to reply, true to form, "Surely you're joking." Once, after I again went too far with my shenanigans, she mailed me a sympathy card. "Because you are so annoying," she wrote inside, "my heart goes out to you."

Yet longevity has definitely loosened our tongues. We lash into each other as we never would have done earlier on. But it's all good-natured. We're now finally comfortable enough with each other – mutually trusting and respectful enough – to do so. We've achieved critical mass.

Fact is, he (or she) who laughs, lasts.

Still, it's seldom sufficient for only one member of a twosome to be funny. According to some research, it's best for couples to be funny together. In short, partners most value humor that is shared. "Individuals belonging to couples with higher shared laughter durations reported feeling closer to and more supported," wrote the researchers in "Putting Laughter in Context: Shared Laughter as Behavioral Indicator of Relationship Well-Being." Couple humor, at its best, is reciprocated, a collaboration that balances competing priorities.

Our attitude is a matter of philosophy. We kid around with each other because life in general is – and our lives together in particular are – much too serious for us to take too seriously.

The other day Elvira discovered I had perpetrated the heinous misdeed of microwaving food in a plastic bowl after she expressly told me never to microwave food in a plastic bowl.

"If you do that again, I'll kill you," she said.

"That sounds like a threat," I replied.

"No," she answered. "That's a promise."

This prompted a follow-up inquiry. "May I ask you a personal question?" I asked her.

"Yes, of course.".

"What's wrong with you?"

"That's easy," Elvira said. "You."

Asked and answered, as a lawyer might say. My bride once again had me dead to rights.

Nothing could make me feel more loved. Just when I thought it was impossible for me to adore her more than ever, I do.

Bob Brody, a long-time health journalist, is the author of the memoir “Playing Catch with Strangers: A Family Guy (Reluctantly) Comes of Age." His personal essays appear regularly in The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, and many other publications. Read More