Though it’s been a while since I was so taken with someone I’d want to buy them a fridge, every so often the idea of marriage makes me think "Fuck it. Why not?"to a world that smells of damp towels, a realm of broodiness, home improvements, and a husband that worries about his lawn.
Bouncing Sexual Cheques
I haven’t seen poontang in so long, I’d throw stones at it. That said, if I had a ZA Rondt for every married woman I’ve blithely chatted up, I’d be a thousandaire. Married women have no neediness in their mien. They’re the biggest flirts, because the stakes are low to non-existent. Married women constantly write cheques they know their butts won’t have to cash. The saddest words in the English language are “Oh you must meet my husband. You’d really hit it off”.
Shock and Awe
After hours of the sort of engrossing conversation where neither of you would notice that your lift had left- and the place had long since closed- seeing a wedding ring is like re-living The Challenger disaster. I go through the gamut of facial expressions that everyone did on the fateful day of January 28, 1986 when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded in the skies above Florida. I go through the same sequence of emotions: confusion about what’s going on; shock when I realise the reality; horror when I think of its implications; and finally, deep and lasting sadness.
Exile in Breederville
Married women don’t roam in packs like single girls. They’re unlikely to be found in the bathroom, snorting a line of cocaine off the cistern. No, this seems a world of SUVs, pastel Hilton Weiner summer collections, and missionary position sex for the rest of your life.
Or maybe not.