Marriage Is A Joke

And you are the punchline.

What my grandmother did faithfully do, however, was add to her list of “Million Things I Hate About Your Grandfather.” Even after sixty-nine years, the list continues to grow. Recent additions include his slowness in getting out of the car, his poor hearing, and his oddball compulsion of counting the number of times he chews his food. I can see her blood rising to a boil when her husband starts to speak. Not surprisingly, my grandfather has become a man of few words.

I used to tell my mom that I wanted to be swept away someday by a tall, dark Italian driving a Vespa. All she’d reply was that love is but a moment’s passion. Why wouldn’t I prefer the loyalty of a husband who was obligated to me by law? “White people say ‘I love you’ like it’s ‘Hello, how do you do?’” my mother complained. “They love everyone! How do you know he will love you the most and want to stay with you forever?”

And my parents wonder why I don’t want to get married.