Noun: Matrimony.  Opinion: I do!

Noun credit: Al Bundy.

One of you jokers thought it would be funny for me to write about matrimony.  Like I know shit.  But whatever, such technicalities have no power in preventing the Judgmentor from forming opinions, especially when solicited.

If nothing else, I have the perspective of distance.  I’ve been watching you married people, oh, yes.  I’ve even got some money riding on a few of you, but that’s neither here nor there.  So what makes two rational, independent people who can barely get their own shit in order think that they can handle another entire life to manage?  At least with your own mess you have the benefit of knowing your own thoughts—bring in another person and you are getting a lot of static with your data, even if you made each other’s acquaintance as zygotes residing in separate uteruses.  After the first flush of lust and infatuation, the reality of a relationship sets in…trying to live with another person—with their quirks and desires and highly inconvenient free will—is no small feat.  On top of it all, they have all…these…goddamn…OPINIONS.  Where to go on vacation, what to spend money on, how often to have or not have sex.  Why is this fool all up in my shit?  It’s enough to drive a bitch insane!  Who would agree to this fuckery?

Taking a relationship to the level of marriage is to agree to having this bug up in your underwear for the rest of your frigging life.  I mean, even the fear of dying alone (as if anyone dies in concert) can’t drive a relatively well-adjusted human being to signing that contract.  Yet people do it all the time.  ALL THE TIME.  I should know, they keep asking my ass for presents.

Every person is different, and when you put two of them together, you double the differentness.  Ergo, one can only assume that every marriage is different.  So what are the commonalities that compel us to continue with this man-made institution?  Let’s see.  One of the defining attributes of a marriage is fidelity—it’s what separates a married couple from me living with my bestest, closest gay friend.  Even if you decide to keep the bar low and not bother with that losing battle, it’s still a point of negotiation.  But for most people, monogamy is the feature of a marriage that will make or break the deal—there are at least thousands of years of collective evolution, experience and habit that feed into that expectation, and if you’re one of those people who think that it’s unrealistic, you’re fighting a whole hell of a lot of fantasy even if you’re right.  For every couple you’re laughing at for being impractical, there’s someone like me laughing at your own deluded ass.  People will cheat, yeah—but people will subsequently get hurt, shaken, and royally pissed off.  Deal.

That’s the bad news about fidelity—it’s slippery and irresolvable.  The good news is that loyalty is a choice.  And every act of betrayal comprises a series of choices: the choice to imbibe that extra beer.  The choice to flirt with the girl with the back tat.  The choice to follow her up to her apartment.  The choice to conjoin genitalia.  Lots of opportunities there to make different choices, which is why your wife has chosen to take every damn thing you own, even your collection of dog-eared porn magazines, just so she can wipe her ass with them in the new baller apartment she’s paying for with your alimony.

Which brings us to economics.  Marriage as a transaction—not just for women (must I clarify for some of you?  You make my life hard) but for men.  The transaction could be of anything—money, safety, image, sex, housekeeping, regular feedings, companionship, diamond rings, babies, finally getting the parents to shut the hell up.  What are you getting out of it?  It has to be worth something.  This, too, is a choice—it doesn’t have to be a mercenary one, but a choice it is.

Aaaaaaaand then there’s love.  Yeah.  That’s where this conversation ends.  Say what you may, but that’s no choice.  It’s a choice to act it and express it, but to feel it—even when your counterpart is rattling every last nerve and taxing the very fiber of your soul to the point that every other sentiment is overwhelmed and you can only assume you still love this person until he gives you back the remote or she stops making that sucking sound through her teeth—is a gift.  It’s a gift you give to someone else, but it’s also a gift that life has given you.  And if you’ve been given this gift, this profound connection to another person and an unfathomable sense of investment in someone else’s happiness, you better be grateful.  Yeah, it will get you into trouble, and it may even end up in this weird and absurd state called matrimony, but it’s also the only thing that makes marriage in this day and age make sense.  Otherwise, I can only believe that there are easier solutions to your ills.

So, I get it.  I get why gay and lesbian couples want in on the bullshit.  I get why I’m getting hit up for wedding gifts.  I get why chick flicks are obsessed with the topic.  I get why sworn bachelors wake up one day and decide to settle down.  It’s because of love—it feels great, you want to feel it forever, and it makes you just crazy enough to promise to make that happen.  Matrimony isn’t a mystery, but love surely is.