It's tough to stay married. My wife kisses the dog on the lips

“It’s tough to stay married. My wife kisses the dog on the lips, yet she won’t drink from my glass.” Thus spoke Rodney Dangerfield, the great humorist of the twentieth century, whose gift was to turn the pain of ordinary life into laughter that revealed deeper truths. Beneath his jest lies more than comedy—it is a mirror of the human heart, a reflection on the fragility of marriage, the strange contradictions of affection, and the eternal struggle for understanding between man and woman. His words, though wrapped in laughter, whisper an ancient truth: that love, when tested by time, becomes both a trial and a triumph, and that in its daily absurdities lie both humor and holiness.

In this quote, Dangerfield speaks in jest of the distance that can grow between partners over years of living together. The image is comic—his wife showing tender affection to a creature, while denying a small gesture of intimacy to her husband—but behind it lies the ache of emotional estrangement that many marriages endure. What begins in passion and closeness can, over time, become marked by habit, routine, and misunderstanding. Yet the humor softens the pain; it allows us to laugh at what might otherwise wound us. Dangerfield’s genius was not to mock marriage, but to remind us that even its struggles are part of the sacred absurdity of human love.

The origin of this humor lies in Dangerfield’s own life—a man who built his art upon the trials of the everyman. He often said, “I don’t get no respect,” but beneath the laughter was a soul that understood the universal desire to be seen, cherished, and acknowledged. In his quip about marriage, he speaks for countless couples who have discovered that affection can coexist with irritation, and that love, though enduring, does not always manifest in tender gestures. It is the comedy of imperfection—how we can live together, care deeply for one another, and yet still fail to understand each other’s hearts.

To see the wisdom hidden in this jest, one need only recall the story of Abraham Lincoln and Mary Todd, whose marriage was often marked by tension and difference. Lincoln, brooding and reflective, carried the weight of a nation; Mary, passionate and proud, struggled with her own storms of spirit. Their union was not always easy, but beneath the turmoil lay a deep and enduring bond. They quarreled, misunderstood one another, yet in times of tragedy—such as the death of their son—they stood together in grief. Their marriage was not built on perpetual harmony, but on shared endurance. And is this not what Dangerfield’s humor reveals—that marriage, though filled with contradictions, survives through patience, forgiveness, and laughter?

Dangerfield’s line about the wife and the dog is also a parable of familiarity. Over time, the extraordinary becomes ordinary; the intimacy that once thrilled becomes expected, even overlooked. The wife’s tenderness toward the dog symbolizes a love that is effortless and uncomplicated—a creature that demands no explanations or apologies. But with her husband, the relationship carries the weight of memory, of words said and unsaid, of unhealed wounds. This is why marriage, though blessed, is also “tough.” For it requires not only love, but renewal—an intentional effort to rediscover the wonder that time tries to erode.

Yet within the humor lies hope. For if a man can laugh about the small indignities of marriage, he can also forgive them. Laughter, as the sages knew, is a form of mercy—it softens resentment and restores perspective. When two people can laugh together at their own follies, they disarm the bitterness that time seeks to plant between them. The ancient poets called laughter “the breath of harmony,” for it reminds us that love need not be perfect to be real. So even as Dangerfield mocks the absurdities of marriage, he honors them—because to laugh is to love without despair.

So, my listener, take this jest as a lesson of life: marriage is not sustained by perfection, but by grace. There will be moments of distance, of confusion, of strange priorities that make no sense. Yet the bond endures when love chooses to see the humor in imperfection, when affection is rekindled by laughter instead of pride. Remember always that tenderness is not measured in grand gestures, but in daily forgiveness, in shared amusement at life’s ironies.

Thus, though Rodney Dangerfield spoke as a comedian, his words carry the wisdom of the ancients: that love, like life, must be met with laughter. For laughter is the bridge between two souls that have forgotten how to reach one another. When all else fails—when affection fades, when tempers rise—if a husband and wife can still share a smile, there remains hope. For in that shared joy, small as it may seem, dwells the secret strength that keeps the heart faithful through all the absurdities of love.