Daisy went to see a good friend of hers this past weekend. (let's call her Alvin - I'm mainly using this name in hopes that ads for chipmunks will pop on my page as a result of this post...) Alvin has a serious boyfriend. They have been dating for quite some time, and Alvin is ready to get engaged. We aren't so sure she's ready to get married (or at least make it past the wedding part), but she is definitely ready for the rock.
Throughout the course of their weeknd together, Daisy learned that Alvin and her man were having a few relationship problems, but that Alvin thought that getting married would fix everything.
Okay. Hold on. Stop right there. I'm just gonna tell ya - Alvin is WRONG.
Getting married to fix your relationship problems is like having sex with someone who has herpes to get rid of herpes. It just doesn't work (possibly the herpes part does, since I've never really studied effective treatment of herpes - however, something tells me sleeping with the herpes infected is not a solution).
In fact, once you get married, any problems you had or might have had or even thought just for a brief fleeting moment you might have had once in a grand blue moon totally and utterly get BIG when you get married.
So to continue this analogy/metaphor/thingie regarding incurable STDs - let's say that you have herpes. And you decided to have sex with a member of the herpes infected to cure it. What will actually happen (again not scientifically documented here, people) is that you will end up having not only herpes, but also gonorrhea, syphilis, warts, chlamydia, and get pregnant with quints.
Not a good thing. That is what happens with marriage.
Now, I am not some sort of downer on marriage. I love being married. I love my husband. In fact, this past weekend was yet another wonderful example of why we are great together. But ladies (and gents), marriage don't fix no thang. It amplifies and aggravates everything!
For example - when I first my hubby, Stu, his room was always extremely messy. Not really dirty, but there were always lots of clothes on the floor. I found his messiness to be endearing. It was, like, so cute, like, how he just left everything everywhere in his room. Like. Obviously, I was blinded by youth and love when I thought these things. I guess I just adored him to the point of god-like reverence and hoped his messiness was a sign of mortality (for those of you who know about our relationship, you know that the above sentence is false, but, really, there is no other explanation)
Part of the reason his messiness never bothered me is that I could flee! Flee from messiness! Flee from t-shirts having a relationship with the floor longer than we had been dating! Flee from the impossibility of never cleaning your room! I had a home of my own that I could run to if the messiness started to bother me!
Sometimes, I would try to be Ms. Nice Girlfriend and sneak over to his place while he was at work or something. I would make some sort of baked good and then CLEAN HIS ROOM! I know - sick, right? But again, remember - blinded by love.
Anyway, he would come home - be very pleased with my hard work, thank me, kiss me, perhaps do a few other things to me (hmmmm), and then throw his dirty clothes on the floor. Cute, right? No?
So now. Now, what do I think about his messiness? Well, when we first got married, it made me hot. And not in a sexy way honeymooner hot. Hot mad. Hopping mad. I am messy a little too, but I would ask myself, "Self, how hard is it to just hang up the towel instead of dropping it on the floor right beneath the hook?" Answer? "Apparently VERY HARD. Maybe even impossible. Quite possibly, the information is classified. I wouldn't know - its never happened."
One time I tried to arrange a meet and greet for the towel and the hook. That did not go over so well. I introduced Stu and Mr. Towel to Ms. Hook. Apparently, Mr. Towel wasn't wearing the proper fabric softener/cologne and Ms. Hook rejected him. Flat out. No chemistry. Nothing.
So...sad. Stu's messiness is here to stay. But, now instead of just getting mad at him for being messy, I just get mad at myself for marrying him. JUST KIDDING, ya'll.
Now, I just deal with it, search the internet for marital problems herpes cream, and (I'm about to reveal my true motivation for coming to law school) console myself with the fact that one day, I will have a maid. And then, Stu's messiness will be someone else's concern.
So the moral of the story is....if you are ring hungry, you will get numerable incurable STD's.
So says Artsy Fartsy at 13.3.06