Yesterday, someone (a guy) randomly asked me this: “So….marriage.Your thoughts?”
My answer: “Not for me.”
I am not getting married. It’s just not something that’s in the cards for me. At least not in the near future. I know a lot of you folks out there, especially those who know me are all up in arms to fight for my probably non-existent future husband and ensure the well being of my chubby, big eyed,not-going-to-happen future babies. I also know my friends (especially my room-mate) who’ve heard me describe my wedding with perfect detail, are rolling their eyes and thinking to themselves, “You’ll be the first one married off.” Well, you’ll have time to speak marriage into my life later on, but for now,cool your hooves and hear me out.
I just don’t have it in me to have a guest that never leaves, because a lot of the times, that’s what a husband is: a guest who never leaves. Yes, I know there are exceptions. There are “some men” out there who are different. That’s all good. However, more and more,I have come to learn that as much as I would want to be the exception to the rule. I am often the rule. I am the statistic and not the exception and so it is very likely that I would end up with a sit-in-front-of-the-TV-with-my-feet-on-the-table-doing-nothing kind of husband. I really don’t want to commit murder.
Now, before someone gets offended that I am undermining women who are about the “Let Me Cater To You” kind of life, let me just say that that is not what I am doing at all. I have no problem with the concept of cooking, cleaning and bearing children for your husband as long as that concept goes hand in hand with the concept of appreciating the cooking, cleaning and bearing children that your wife does for you. And please, when I say appreciation,I don’t mean buying me a gift on my birthday or our anniversary. If you want to appreciate my cooking:wash the dishes. If you want to appreciate that I clean: pick up after yourself.If you want to appreciate that I bore your children: be a good father.
There’s also the hard to ignore fact that a majority of the male presence in my life, who I would be interested in if I had the energy, treat me like I’m a she-devil in need of an exorcism (I don’t know, it must have something to do with me having strong opinions and not being afraid to express them.) Honestly, when I hear how some of them describe me, I feel like a punishment that’s meted out to wayward boyfriends when they make their girlfriends angry. The threat would go a bit like this: “Next time you mess up,I’ll give you to Ebby!” and the misbehaving boyfriend is soon back on the straight and narrow. The rest of the guys who are not afraid of me are my relatives, my almost-relatives and guys who have never met me.
Of course, I could change and be “gentler” or “less opinionated” or more “submissive” but a friend of mine mentioned that there’s nothing as annoying as women pretending to be submissive when what they are actually doing is trying to control the relationship with their synthetic meekness. So, that’s out. Besides, I am a really bad actor,he’d be able to tell from a mile away that I am faking.
Lastly, I really like my personal space. I don’t like sharing a bed but most of all, I really don’t like it when other people’s cold feet touch mine.I know that’s petty. But, it is what it is.
Now, if any of you are ever seated in a church that’s all decked out in wedding finery and you hear the “Bridal March” and look down the aisle and see me walking down…Pinch yourself, you might be dreaming. If not…then I guess it will mean that all this would have come back to bite me in the bum.
P.S. If somehow you read this and end up marrying me,I just need you to know that we will wear socks to bed. Feet are not supposed to touch.Okay. Thanks.
These were random thoughts brought on by a random question. I’m done now.Goodnight.