I admit I am a control freak. I’ll even go one step further and admit that I can be inflexible. Consequently, I have pretty much hassled my children into being fantastic little people. I’m guaranteed passable behavior, and at the very least, can count on them not to embarrass me publicly. They’re 12 and 7, so I figure that’s pretty much the norm by the time they’re that old, right?
I’ve been running in circles, chasing my own tail if you will, trying to get everyone on board with the same ideas. I’ve made a feelings box, have tried to negotiate respectfully when I’m on thin ice…and have finally come to a pretty annoying conclusion. (Actually, my delightful ex-husband shoved me into coming to the conclusion)
Sometimes the only way to help someone, is to let them hang themselves with their own rope. Sometimes you have to go a step further even, and offer them your rope to hang themselves with. Worse still…sometimes you have to let them shake your peaceful happy existence by watching them do it.
I. Am. In. Hell.
Do we really need another study done that shows how marriage shortens a woman’s life?
I believe in the idea…hell I tried it once. I love the notion of “Happily ever after”, I am a product of the Disney generation after all. I’d even be willing to go so far as to say I could convince you to agree with me. As modern and progressive as I consider myself to be, there is still a tiny princess of a girl dreaming up tulle and satin atrocities even the best designers haven’t created yet. I glance at Bride magazine at the checkout…I eyeball rings in the jewelry store on occasion. I wonder…daydream…and think it must be… early alzheimers. 🙂
The reality of any romantic situation is never the stuff movies are made on. Hell if it were, we wouldn’t need movies! Trying to co-mingle and coexist with anyone for all eternity is unnatural. Not to mention boring. I don’t care how many shrinks, women or clergymen say you can find ways to spice things up and keep it fresh forever, it’s a load of crap, and everyone knows it…even as abject denial is dripping from their lips. Having sex with the same one person for the rest of time is the equivalent of being sentenced to eat nothing but peanut butter and jelly for the rest of your life. Granted, I can go for a pb&j now and then, but not enough to give up steak and shrimp.
At any rate, This past Saturday I found myself knee deep in marital-strife in a pale blue satin dress I wouldn’t have even worn in the 80’s. Adding to my horror was the half-can of Aqua net the “on-site beauty professional” had sprayed into my hair (and lungs…). You could literally bounce pocket change off the curls that were clinking behind me in all their lacquered glory. The 20 lbs of stress weight I’ve been slowly melting off was turning the prom dress into a tourniquet with a sort of greenhouse effect. With our dyed to match satin heels and troupe of 4 close friends donning the same uniform, we marched our sweating miserable asses up the aisle and gave our friend away to a complete moron.
The sad fact? She knows he’s a moron. Hell she told all of us. When I asked her “Why, Why, WHY?” she actually said “Why not? What else is there to do?” Too many wonderful things rushed through my mind at once and I was just left speechless. She was looking forward to the honeymoon to Boise, after all, and figured he was an adequate choice.
Does it really make me a horrible person to want fireworks? Call me demanding, but I want the guy that can’t think of anything else in the world he’d rather do than spend his life with me, and I want to feel the same. Life is too short to be sort of happy. Life is too short to settle. I went to the wedding hoping I’d have a new outlook on marriage, hoping that maybe it’d be a wistful blog about pale pink rosebuds and pearl buttons…but it’s only confirmation that I’m right… marriage is unhealthy.