"Why do you suppose our marriage is so successful and others go so poorly?" my wife asked me the other day.

"Is our marriage successful?" I asked.

"Yes. It is."

"OK."

You may not have spotted it, but in that short conversation I have given you the answer as to how to make a marriage work. Or, at least, how to make my marriage work.

One of the problems that comes up pretty quickly when looking at the relative success or lack thereof in a marriage is the fact that most marriages involve people. People, you may have noticed, are thoroughly hard to gauge.

For example, one group of people will think that taking the heart, lungs and liver of a sheep and boiling them in the animal's stomach is more than a little weird and certainly not the sort of thing that you would call dinner. For the Scottish, however, haggis is a pillar of culture.

I think that potato salad is an abomination to all things delicious. But most Americans would accuse me of being a communist for suggesting such a thing.

With this sort of variance in opinion on what is or is not a foodstuff, it should come as no surprise that each of us on this planet is so different that it is very difficult to make accurate blanket statements about what we should be doing with our relationships.

Nonetheless, in my almost six years of marriage, a handful of foolish souls have asked me, without the slightest sense of irony, "What's the key to a successful marriage?"

When I say "foolish souls" I am, of course, talking about guys. Women already know that the key has nothing to do with what a man thinks.

What I usually tell guys is that there are a number of Buddhist elements to it: You do not have a self; your world is in constant flux; and, whenever possible, you should choose the path of least resistance.

Take a look at that conversation from earlier. When I asked, "Is our marriage successful?" I wasn't actually asking a real question. I wasn't casting doubt on the veracity of my wife's statement or asking for clarification. I was simply making sure that I had heard my wife correctly.

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"Yes. It is," says my wife.

OK. I'll remember that.

Do I like ice tea? Yes. I do. I'll remember that, too. How about this shirt? Yes. It's my favorite. I wouldn't have guessed that, but who am I to argue? Happy marriages are built on a man's ability to remember what his wife tells him, or his ability to bluff while he waits for his wife to tell him something.

I'm part of that latter group. I have a notoriously bad memory. Fortunately, the world is in constant flux. On Monday it's romantic for me to kiss my wife's earlobes, but on Wednesday that sort of thing is really annoying and can't I see that she's trying to watch "Felicity"?

If I were able to remember what my wife told me, it wouldn't matter because what she says will change soon enough.

So I flow, like a river, following the path of least resistance and accepting that bringing home a bag of chocolate chip cookies is not actually a good thing. Or maybe it is. Or maybe it is at 6 p.m. but not at 7:30 p.m. Rivers can be difficult to navigate at times.

I should, at this point, correct myself and say that I do, in fact, have a self. Just because a river flows in the path of least resistance, that doesn't mean that it is without boundaries. When we moved into our first apartment, I took a stand against Precious Moments figurines. To this day, their intolerable cuteness exists nowhere in my home.

(I am fortunate that Rachel only had one Precious Moments figurine, else I would have had to put my foot down about something else.)

I'm sure that some men would accuse me of being henpecked or "whipped." I would still suggest that they learn a bit of Eastern philosophy. Instead of Buddhism, they can follow yoga. They need only learn one position: Man Sleeping On Couch.

By following the Tao of Chris, my wife and I seem to have had pretty good luck with one another. We're not perfect, but there are no days that I would want to be reborn as a single man. I still love waking up next to her each morning. I find navigating the river of marriage to be an enjoyable experience.

That's the true key to a successful marriage -- that you enjoy it.

Well, maybe that's the key. I should probably ask my wife, just to be sure.

Chris Cope is married, with no children. His column appears every other Tuesday.