There, I Said It…Can We Move On Now?
It used to be that all I had to do was talk to a Married Friend to rest assured that the esteemed state was not the gates of heaven. Now all I have to do is look at a Facebook profile. Family shot. Frozen smile. Distant gaze. Oh, no. I smell a joint custody battle.
As the child of divorce, I’m actually a little bitter that nobody has thanked me for not wrecking havoc on a child.
I do know happily married people. If you ask them what the secret it, they sigh and say something akin to, “We don’t treat each other like toilet paper.” Got it. You’re adults. I see how that works. Doesn’t mean I can do it.
“You have to say, ‘I want to be married.’ And then it will happen,” said my Madre (that’s mother in Spanish.).
“But Mom! Listen to me! I don’t know if I want…To Be Married.”
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Disconnect. Did you not hear what I said? (This type of conversation happens often. She’s having a conversation with an Imaginary Daughter. One who got an MFA, married an attorney, and didn’t spend a down payment on therapy.)
If I DID want to get married or any of it’s antecedents, it would be difficult to meet someone with my increasingly busy schedule of hanging out with 15-year-olds. Actually, technically, they’re in their twenties. And thirties. And forties. Either way, they’re kids. Also known as comics.
Let’s just avoid the subject.
Just for today, I’m afraid of commitment.