We stay with each other for one reason and one reason only: to find the other person's secret treasure. Banker Fred likely has his holed up in a mattress or buried in coffee cans in the yard. Me?
Wouldn't you like to know.
It's simple: Find it, keep it. And usually, it means you're outta here.
F: Hey! You're a gypsy! Your whole family is a caravan of gypsies; its the only explanation for how much you moved around.
A: Oh shut up. My mom just didn't want to vacuum.
A: Man, once I find your treasure I'm out of here.
A: Whatcha doing?
F: Going running.
A: But it's like 5:30 a.m.; it's sleepy time.
F: Uh, no. I'm going running.
A: Fine, but when you get back you're going to stink. So you'll have to go immediately to the shower or else I'll punch you in the face.
F: I won't come back if I find your treasure.
F: I'm highly evolved.
F: I don't have any wisdom teeth, never did.
A: That just means your a dummy.
F: Nope. More highly evolved than you.
A: Shut it.
F: My body is smart enough to know what it doesn't need. Your body just keeps it and spits it out later - tonsils, wisdom teeth, part of your nose and - apparently - your gall bladder.
F: I'm evolved! EVOLVED!
A: ... I'm going to go outside and dig for your treasure.
Now that I've invested (almost) 6 years in this marriage, there better be more in his secret treasure than dumb old baseball cards and his coveted running watch.