Thursday, May 29, 2008

The Supply and Demand of Marriage . . .

. . . here is my agonizing fear.

I'm single. I expect to be that way for quite some time. I couldn't tell you if it's by choice, or if it's a product of so many of my "traits." Right now, it doesn't concern me. There's still a lot that I need to do, and I don't know how it could be achieved with so much dead weight. (There went all two of my female readers.) If we were talking in the terms of one of the textbooks I never read, it could be said that my marriage demand is low. Regardless, the fact remains - many of my peers aren't single. At this age, they're in serious, committed, relationships. In fact, every girl that I had a major crush on back in High School has married some douchebag whose father owns a car dealership.

With each day, the supplies for marriage are dwindling. There stands a great chance that by the time I enter the market, what remains will be the clearance goods, reduced down for a quick sale. Slight wear. Irregular. Open box. These are the tags I may have to settle with. One could argue that with divorce touching half of all unions, I may be able to catch-up in the second round. I doubt it. Like a bad job, you don't leave until you have a Plan B figured out. To do otherwise, is to subject yourself to a sea of uncertainty. Even I wouldn't do that, and I'm easily one of the most irrational people I know. For example, I purchased a Playstation 3 on Saturday. As soon as the cashier handed me back the change, I couldn't tell you why I bought it. I left the store thinking, "I hate videogames." Similarly, I can't not buy the Jumbo-size popcorn and drink at the movie theater. The sticker next to it says 'Best Value,' who am I to question this faceless/godless writer of the concession menu.

Instead, I see couples along Michigan Avenue. Walking, hand-in-hand. And I tell myself, it's just not for me.


Anonymous said...

Don't worry - this female reader is in pretty much the same the end, I really think it's better to be alone than to settle for "damaged goods." Ya know?

Moaning Myrtle said...

don't worry, i think of men as dead weight.