I was offended that I failed to offend anyone last week with my latest column, so this week I decided to write about something that I’m bound to hit a home run with.
I have two sisters who are getting married in the next year so I’ve decided to put in my two cents worth on the subject. If anything, I’ll feel better knowing that I will insult them. I’m no Stephen Hawking, but two is better than zero.
Many people’s first problem with marriage is the idea of spending the rest of your life with the same person. A first date is boring enough as it is, but can you imagine how mundane the five thousandth date must be?
“Waiter,” you might say on your sixtieth wedding anniversary at the fine restaurant your betrothed brought you to, “I’d like a dirty martini, shaken, with a side of euthanasia. Oh, and blue cheese olives as well.”
Surprisingly, I am not put off by marriage in the slightest. This may come as a shock seeing as I am the same person who, at a frat party last year when offered Herpes by playing Beer Pong, replied, “Sorry, I have commitment issues.”
Call me old-fashioned, but I think the idea of sharing a lifetime’s worth of memories together and growing old is sort of sweet. Growing old until your husband comes home with the tan, blonde, fresh-outta-high-school secretary one day and informs you he’s leaving you for a Playboy Bunny.
My spouse will never have to worry about me leaving them for a sexy teenager because I have an innate fear of becoming the proud geriatric 75 year old baby daddy whose baby momma is old enough to be my great-granddaughter. If anything, they should fear me leaving them for an older woman. All the benefits of sex without the consequence of getting anyone pregnant and having leeches for children sucking my Social Security dry like Britney Spears sucks down frappuccinos.
God only knows that my free punch-pass at Planned Parenthood expired during prom week.
Another issue people have with marriage is that they aren’t religious. I’m the anti-Christ, straight out of Satan’s birth canal, and if I’m okay with it then you don’t have religious barriers, what you have is denial.
And as Jesus would say (or is it AA?), “First step is acceptance…only to avoid getting nailed with guilt.”
If you do have ‘commitment issues’ and want to get over them, then the first solution you might turn towards is crack. I hear the breakup rate with him is only one percent. And if you like it then you should’ve put a crack pipe on it as Beyoncé might say.
Last week I attended a meeting for “Anonymous Straight Men Who Refuse to Marry” out of curiosity for their reasoning against it. To be honest, I may have been in a gay club, but you can never be too certain in these situations.
One participant who identified himself as Playa4Lyf said, “I don’t want to lose my freedom. How is being locked in a house with the same person having a ring branded on your finger marking you as a No-Go Zone any different than being in prison?”
Well, for starters Playa4Lyf, I don’t think when you drop the soap in your marble shower in your quaint suburban home it’s going to be nearly as eventful as dropping it in prison. But to each his own, I suppose, especially when it comes to bathroom experiences.
Another man, Crak-Iz-Whack-But-Hoes-R-4Bros, commented, “I’ll lose my respect. Ain’t no woman tyin’ me down like some dog.”
Well said, my classy man, well said! But I think she has a right to tie you up, seeing as you’ve kept this same woman chained up in the kitchen for the past few thousand years.
Marriage is not for everyone. But neither is heroin. I am a strong supporter of people getting married if it’s for the RIGHT reasons. Don’t get hitched simply because you want the perfect white picket fence, two small children, a golden retriever, and a minivan. Don’t give up on your hopes and dreams simply to be living a real life doll house. If that’s what you want, hell, I’ll buy you one for your next birthday.
Don’t get married in Vegas just because you can, that’s just selfish. Some people can’t get drunkenly married for fun even if they wanted to. Marriage is a privilege, not a right. You don’t see me waving my birth certificate around in front of illegal immigrants wanting to become U.S. citizens.
In the end, marriage is a vast juxtaposition for people. To some, it is like a porta-potty at a concert; those waiting in line are desperate to get in while those on the inside are desperate to get out. To others, romantics like myself or delusional schizophrenics, marriage is a thing of beauty. Shining bright like a diamond, as Rihanna might say. Shinier than her forehead after Chris Brown ripped her bangs out.