|
Chapter 7/Page 2 |
||
 |
|
|
|
Pity woman. Before she even makes it safely out of the birth canal society burdens her with undue pressure to attract a suitable Suitor, persuade said Suitor to ask her hand, arm, and leg in marriage, and obsess for a year over countless details involved in planning The Day. On The Day she will stand in front of a room full of suddenly unrecognizable friends and relations while a person she’s only just met declares that the relationship she's been in with Suitor (who now also appears before her as a perfect stranger) is now valid, get throw-up drunk at a reception prepared by people who should be wearing masks as they take her parents’ money, and make forgettable conversation with people she won't know by her fifth anniversary. Then after the Day, she gets to watch as: a) her hips expand proportionately to her husband’s mid-section, b) she and hubby forget how to talk to each other and, c) their sex life hurls into oblivion. And when the condom fails, she can pop out a couple pups and raise them in solitude. Pity her. Pity man. Man has no clue of the importance of The Day. From the first hint the penis may have uses other than urinating he sets out simply to explore the objects of his desire with a focus and purpose he will never attain in any other aspect of his life. And only sometime in his early twenties, when he comes up for that first gasp of air, does he become aware of the unrelenting pressure put upon him by those victims of society whose panties he’s been lodging, bartering, and cajoling himself into, to become the suitable Suitor, scrape together the industry standard two and a half months’ salary for The Ring, make life-altering decisions regarding mysterious products with names like Wedgwood and Lennox; then stand in front of the same room of strangers, overcome the case of Bridal Amnesia that has rendered the woman standing next to him in the white dress nameless, vow in front of God and family that he will forsake the very force that has driven his life since that first day he discovered those hard things in his nipples, suffer through ill prepared food, moments of anxiety over the night he and the maid of honor came that close to sleeping together, the numbing chatter of his new , and the drunken ranting of his bride, to whom, three hours into the extravaganza and two hours pre-vomit, he can only smile as she turns to him and says, “You mean we could have gone to Europe and Asia for the cost of this shindig?” Pity him. |
||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|