Are you seeing a pattern here? So marriage is some bizarre cultural tradition born of a societal complex that emphasizes the necessity of never being alone, right? I get that it “makes sense” to partner up in order to perpetuate your genes or whatever, but doesn’t monogamy also make zero sense for the exact same reason? Shouldn’t we all be out trying to sow our seed as widely as possible?
I really think that marriage is a coping mechanism used to promote denial of the human truth that, ultimately, we are all alone. I know I’ve said things like this before, and people think I’m just being overdramatic, pessimistic, depressing, nihilistic, bitter, and so on–which I totally get. But I don’t look at it that way–I look at it more like we should all try to foster our relationship with ourselves primarily, and then apply that to our relationships with others, but not depend on them wholly–a dependence which is fostered by the inherent premise of marriage. Instead of rushing to the altar, here are some reasons I think it makes more sense to cultivate your independent sense of being.
When you get married, you become entangled–financially, socially, sexually, physically, mentally, spatially, etc. You merge two lives into one, when there’s not really room for both, and then one inevitably has to sacrifice, which leads to conflict. For example, you lose your space physically–you now have to share a home, bed, bathroom, kitchen, and your freedom to use those spaces however you please is limited by the necessity of considering your partner. And maybe you just want to be able to eat cocoa puffs in your underwear at 2 AM while you cry and watch Dance Moms, and don’t want to have to do this in the living room with your laptop and headphones on because your husband “needs his sleep because he has a ‘big presentation’ in the morning that will make or break his career.”
And maybe you want to be able to spend $300 on this great sweater you saw on Today with Kathie Lee and Hoda that you’ll never wear without having to try to hide the credit card charge from your husband’s hawk-like surveillance of your bank accounts or justify it to him because you’re trying to save up to buy a house blah blah blah.
Also, you now have to hang out with your spouse’s shitty friends. Your wife’s golf buddies? Yep, now you have to host them for barbecues while you pretend to care about where they got their latest pastel polo shirts monogrammed, how/when/why they discovered just the BEST iron, and read their masturbatory Christmas cards.
Also, IN. LAWS. Enough said, right? You now have two more parents, and if you’re real unlucky, several more siblings, to disappoint. Gone are the days of merely failing to meet your own parents’ expectations. Now you’re beholden to a bunch more douchebags with outdated haircuts who shop exclusively at Ross, and you have to pretend to give a shit when they invite you over for slow cooker recipe parties, or when they buy you passive aggressive doormats, or try to talk to you about the importance of satisfying your husband/their son sexually (“Timmy doesn’t know it, but I used to find magazines under his mattress all the time when I cleaned his room, and he’s into some kinky stuff, so I Xerox’d them for your reference 😉 “).
And then there’s the whole issue of growing tired of each other. I mean, how realistic is it that you’ll maintain a burning romance for the rest/majority of your lives? I’d say about as good as the chance that you’ll ever get the timing right when you try to microwave popcorn. You’ll get sick of each other’s personalities, you’ll become resentful of the demands your spouse makes on you (“No, Martha, I do not want to clean the gutters. I have an MBA from Harvard for Chrissake.”), and your bodies will get progressively shittier, so your sexual interest will just circle the drain until it completely tanks and you then cheat with a stripper, your spouse’s best friend or boss, or have an emotional affair over the Internet and end up on an episode of Dr. Phil.
None of this sounds very appealing, does it? Not to mention all the money and fake enthusiasm you’re going to have to spend on the charade that is your wedding. Frankly, I think a night in watching Netflix with soft pants on while cuddling with your Beanie Baby collection sounds far more appealing, and also less likely to snore so loudly in its sleep that you wish its sleep apnea would just kill it already.
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