Maiwage…Maiwage is Whut Brings Us Toogethu…Towday.

You ever have one of those months where it feels like everyone you know is getting married, engaged, or pregnant?

Yeah? EVERY month feels like that?

Yeah, me too. You’d think we’d run out of unmarried friends, wouldn’t you, at the rate this is going.

I guess I’m just in that time frame in my life…where a lot of people I know found their soul mate during their last two years of college, and now they are just going to town, baby. Booking it down that aisle! Bring on the nuptials!

Not that I’m (that) jealous. I’m a romantic, after all, and I’m uber happy for you. I’ll come to your wedding with a smile on the inside and outside, I’ll take pictures if you want me too, I’ll fail at dancing the electric slide for the zillionth time and I’ll eat all the sausage balls while I’m doing it. I’ll hug your grandmother and shake hands with your brother and, by golly, I will completely refrain from telling your mother that there is a fifty percent chance this whole dealie will end in a bitter divorce in less than ten years.

Hey, so I’m a CYNICAL romantic. As far as I’m concerned, cynicism is just another facet of romanticism.

Which is to say again that I’m not jealous. At least, I’m not jealous of the FACT that you are getting married. Was it really a year and a half ago that I actually thought I was ready for marriage? That I was actually BUYING A RING!? What in the crispity chrunchity crap was I thinking?

I’m really not ready for that kind of…life altering, soul binding, cleaving* of a man and a woman into one person. If you are, then more power to you. Let the flowers be chosen and the thematic colors be agonized over.

No, what really irks me, what gets my goat, what I AM jealous about…well…lets just be clear, blunt, and come right out and say it without resorting to silly metaphors.

Yes, I’m talking about The Horizontal Hokie Pokie.

Lord help me, I’m abstinent until marriage, a virgin by choice, and boy, does it get on my nerves sometimes. Okay, so mostly I’m fine with it. Obviously, I wouldn’t have made it this far into my adulthood if I didn’t feel like it was the right thing for me to be doing. (Or NOT doing, if you will, ay gov’ner, say no more, say no more)

But I’ll tell ya…never do I get more irritated by it than at a wedding. At a wedding, sex is the obese elephant in the room, stepping on toes and bumping into you at the bar and not giving a damn either way. It’s the unspoken promise. The bride and the groom are headed for a night of fun, and here’s the kicker…so is almost everyone else in the place. Cause weddings get people frisky, don’t they? A little nostalgia perhaps…a little anticipation of the future, a little dancing, some champagne…conditions, as the man says, are perfect. And don’t forget about that silly old elephant, spiking the punch and spraying magical good juju into the air with his trunk.

Yes, weddings are but the warm up to the real party for most people. But what about that one percent of folks who are that increasingly rare combination of A) not married and B) choosing to remain abstinent until marriage…

Well, we get to go home, sort through the pictures we took at YOUR wedding, have a rootbeer, eat the last crumbly sausage ball we stole from the reception, climb into our hammock, and read until we fall asleep, and our last thought as murky darkness slides in is that if we meet the girl of our dreams TOMORROW that we wouldn't be ready for marriage, so it MIGHT, it MIGHT be a year and a half until we get let into your fun little club.

Okay, like I said…most of the time I’m fine with my life choices. I don’t need encouragement. I don’t need “hang in theres”. I’m not going to break and I’m not going to bend. I’ll make it.

But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I feel I have every right to complain. God gives me a physical body that basically exists to eat, sleep, and have sex, and then says “Ah ah ah ah…not yet, sucka fool! Not till you’re married!” And I say “What? Don’t sleep until I’m married…that sounds bad but I think I can make it—“ and then God interrupts and says “I’m not talking about SLEEP you blinkin idiot, I’m talking about SEX!” And I say, “Sex? ONE OF THE THREE PRIMARY DRIVES OF ALL LIVING CREATURES, that is what I can’t do until I’m married?” And God says, “yeah man.” And I say “Oh…well that sucks!” And God says, “Deal with it man. I’m God.” And I say, “True enough, true enough, you have a point.” And God says “umm…yeah. I usually do. But I tell you what. You’re free to look at as many sunsets as you want. How awesome is that? I’ll even throw in sunrises and mountains and paintings by Monet and all that.” And I say “That’s pretty freak’n awesome, God, I’ll admit. But what about the people who aren’t married and having sex? They get to look at sunsets and Monet paintings too.” And God says, “Look, you’re kinda missing the point, man…don’t you think?” **

And so on…

For more information regarding my thoughts about God’s sense of humor, see my earlier post concerning yogurt, mouthwash, and Paulie Shore.

Anyway, I forgot where I was going with all this…so I guess I’m done for this post. Here’s one last fun fact before I go. I just found out today that my parents read this blog. So, Dad, and especially Mom, I’m sorry you just had to read my rant about my sexual frustrations. Look on the bright side. At least I’m able to humorously complain about success as opposed to sorrowfully rue failure.

Enjoy your evenings, folks. It's the hammock for me.

--A--

Footnotes
*Fun Vocabulary Fact! The verb “cleave” has two definitions that are the total opposite of each other! Have Fun with Dictionaries, Kids!
**For some reason, God went from being a gansta to a cockney brit to a hippie in three sentences. Don't ask me. I just write what I feel.