I’m not getting married…today
- August 4, 2021
- 0 comments
- Rafa
- Posted in IMJO
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By Randall Jobe
“I miss me. The old me. The happy me. The bright me. The smiling me. The laughing me. The gone me.†—Anonymous
Having never been married (due to a list too long to recount), it is only through fierce observation that I have concluded that it might be one of the most difficult jobs in the world, sans cleaning bathhouse walls and filling in the crags and creases in Cher’s original face.
To commit to being with the same person day in and day out for who knows how many years, dealing with their bad habits, shifting moods, idiosyncrasies, and bat-shit craziness, and being expected to accept it with a Pollyanna attitude is beyond my comprehension. I would end up popping pills and grinning like the Cheshire Cat half the time. Just punish me by sitting me next to Ryan Seacrest five days a week! Someone give Kelly Ripa a “patience-of-Jobe†award right now. I pray I am watching the day she’s had enough and slaps the smug know-it-all grin off of his face and storms off the set.
Ok, ok, a disclaimer: I am sure that some of you married folk are insisting that your marriage is the blissful fairy tale romance of a former char girl turned Princess who threw a sweaty shoe, found her handsome, tights-wearing Prince, and allegedly are living happily ever after. I guess I’m the evil stepmother telling you that you had it better cleaning cinders from the hearth and cutting corns from your sinister stepsister’s hooves. Life is hard, then you die haggard.
The reality is that most of us are generally too set in our own ways and too selfish to survive marriage. Hence, the statistics of divorce among straight couples and now those who fought the hard battle for gay marriage resembles the crumbling of an eight-day-old scone. As the dear Dolly Parton said: “I believe in gay marriage. Gays deserve the right to be as miserable as the rest of us.â€
Maybe marriage isn’t miserable 24/7, but just wait until the old ball and chain are telling you how to drive, to dress, and to think (exactly like them or you’re wrong), then whistle a happy tune while picking up their dirty socks off the floor, sitting through their movie choices and eating gluten-free. Do it all for long and you’ll deserve an Academy Award and an escape route following the Yellow Brick Road to P-Town.
I am not against marriage. I just think that some people don’t think it carefully, like lesbians who own U-Hauls and gay boys who believe that diamonds are forever until the setting falls out on the dance floor and is crushed underfoot by an old disco queen. But, then there is always a newer model to recharge the ability to give it another foolish shot. Offering a new ability to cope. Until you can’t.
I imagine that even Elizabeth Taylor shook her head and said, “Why? Why? Why?â€
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