This post will begin a new theme that will appear from time to time on The Steaming bLog…Mysteries of the Universe. I’ll post them as I solve them, as I’m sure there are hundreds of thousands of you out there who’ve been searching for the answers to the very same questions. First up is Marriage. Keep two things in mind when reading these Mysteries. One; the Mystery wouldn’t have come to mind if I hadn’t encountered it recently; which could result in an upbeat, optimistic post, or a sarcastic, semi-belligerent post, depending on the experience. And two, I reserve the right to modify, deny, or defend any solution contained hereafter. With that tidy disclaimer made, let’s get into our first solved mystery.
For centuries Man and Woman have been joined together by the act of Marriage. Some would say we’re born with the Marriage gene, thus being drawn by instinct to find a mate and settle down. Others might say that Marriage is brought about by finding your soul mate; the Yin to your Yang, the Abbott to your Costello, the Jill to your Jack. Still others might claim that it’s simply an outdated tradition forced upon the masses by “The Man”. These theories are sound, well, except for the last theory…if you believe that you’re probably a tin-foil hat wearing idiot who shouldn’t marry or procreate. My theory, nay, my solution to this mystery follows no existing theory, but it certainly holds up in the court of common sense.
Follow me if you will. You’re a single, twenty-something, Caucasian, middle class, American male. Up until this point in your life you’ve had several constants: family, friends, the ever increasing cost of buying goods, and the also ever increasing scandal produced by the fairer sex (women, not gay men). But as you age you find that some of these constants grow weak, and some grow ever stronger. You realize that your mother’s theory that Hot Pockets are bad for you is probably true, so your bond with your family grows. You realize that the loaf of bread that cost you .99 cents two years ago now costs you twice that, so the increasing cost of goods constant holds true. The last two constants go hand in hand. As one weakens, the other is bolstered. The friends that once stood by you through thick and thin begin to only stand by you through thin, thinner, and then thinnest. At first this transition is transparent, barely noticeable, much like a screen door on a warm summers day. You walk through the house, heading to the backyard through an open door, then WHAM you walk right through the screen door of abandonment. You find that not only have you walked through the screen door, another door has been closed and bolted behind you. Oh the door will be opened at times, and you’ll be allowed passage on occasion, your friends may even be able to venture out of the door to meet you (if granted a reprieve), but most times you’ll find that the door is closed and you’re on your own.
As I stated before, as one constant weakens the other grows stronger. By this point I’m sure you can gather which constant has weakened…so it stands to reason that the constant that it strengthened involves the scandalous ways of women. Ok, that’s out of the way, so lets continue:
While flying solo in the world you come to believe that you’re the smart one. Everyone else is tied down, their lives dictated and scheduled and micro-managed by someone else. You’re free; you do what you want, when you want, for any reason at all. Life is sweet. You catch up on your reading, you spend an inordinate amount of time playing Playstation, you start a blog…yeah, things could not be better. Or could it? As the months and years go on you start to see that freedom without fellow compatriots just isn’t the same. Who’s there to laugh with you when you see a fat woman riding a bicycle? Who’s there to back you up when the grocery clerk gets all uppity after you ask him to put the milk in a separate bag? Who’s there to pull your finger when…well, when you’re feeling especially buoyant? No one, that’s who. Yeah, you could bring your mother along, but they don’t find fat women as funny as you, they feel sorry for the grocery clerk, and after the fourth or fifth time, they’ll just stop pulling your finger. The world becomes a cold and unforgiving place.
Life becomes a waiting game. Will one of the lost brethren call you this weekend? You long for a taste of what was, the days of camaraderie and illicit activities that colored your past. Sometimes you get that taste, but it never quenches you. Sure, you could find others that are in the same predicament as you, but the history isn’t there. So you resign yourself to a future of solitude, venturing out only for work and food…and occasionally for some Hot Pockets and video games.
You begin to grow accustomed to this quasi-life. Things could be worse right? But then you see them. Your friends and their wives with their friends and their wives, and you begin to grow sour. Just look at them, laughing at their silly “married” jokes, talking about Desperate Housewives and how it actually is a pretty good show, eating their quiches. You’d like to take them down a peg or two all right. But how? It’s always two against one, and unless you’re fighting midgets, those just aren’t odds that you’re comfortable with. So you start scheming, day after day trying to find a chink in their armor. Days turn in to weeks, weeks into months and possibly years…and then
Disheartened and defeated you return to your lair, questioning not only the plan, but your very existence. Then it hits you, the only way to gain entry and remain in their circle is to become one of them. That’s it! You spend months looking for the right “horse” to accompany you. Finally you find her, though she’s not exactly a thoroughbred, she’s just what you needed. You spend all of your time with her, all the while secretly planning your attack. Then the day comes, you pop the question, she accepts, and the plan is one step closer to fruition. Revenge, sweet, sweet revenge is on the horizon.
But then you have to take your wife to Home Depot one weekend. Then it’s a trip to buy new furniture, because the old furniture doesn’t match the paint that you bought at Home Depot. Then it’s a party at her sisters’ house, and a fight because you told her that Rachel Ray would look pretty good if she got some implants.
Finally, your friend and his wife invite you and your wife over for coffee and biscotti one night. You walk in, sit down to coffee, eat your biscotti, talk about duvet covers and make small talk about 401k accounts, then you go home. There was something you were going to do tonight. What was it again? You strain trying to remember what it was, then your wife yells at you for not paying attention. Oh well, you’ll think of it tomorrow…but you never do. The revenge that you had spent so many man hours concocting, so many ounces of blood, sweat and tears developing, just slips away. You’re thankful for the companionship, but always wonder how it was that you got here.
