Single men, a very short time ago I was deeply entrenched in your midst. Then, without warning, I met a woman, put a ring on her finger, and before I realized what was happening, my way of life changed completely. Today, I wake up barely a month into wedded bliss, and realize I owe all of you a favor.
There are privileges you have, yet don’t properly appreciate. Furthermore, there are misconceptions about marriage that need to be eliminated for your own good.
First, and foremost, let’s get one thing straight: women are weird, period.
My wife happens to share a personality very similar to mine. That does not matter. Get a week into sharing 750 sprawling square feet of apartment with your better half and you will discover this person you now live with is an odd creature.
Prepare yourself now. Take common sense and pitch it out the window. She wants nothing to do with it. Your way of bachelor life is a thing of the past.
It will happen the minute you discover the corner of your bathtub has become a three-tiered shower caddy skyscraper. Once there was shampoo and conditioner, and now it’s a pagan altar to loofahs, razors, lotions, exfoliating creams, nighttime moisturizers, daytime moisturizers, toners (whatever a toner is), hair treatments, and various other forms of lavender and watermelon scented ridiculousness.
It’s only the beginning.
Almost every prized man possession will have the same fate – the dump. For instance, your favorite Dallas Cowboys blanket that’s weathered countless Sundays and disappointing seasons will suddenly be addressed as if it’s no longer part of the family. Sure, it has an ever so slight sweaty smell. The minute she moves in, it will become “the most horrible, disgusting smell I’ve ever had the misfortune to come across in my life.”
Apparently, she didn’t live in my college dorm.
Next, and most importantly, you need to face the fact that while you’ll be the spiritual head of your household, you’re really not in charge anymore. My wife and I went through an 8-week pre-marital course in which we learned a man is supposed to die to himself for his wife and the wife is to submit to the man.
Well, that was the worst mistake of my life.
Yes, it’s technically true, but the problem is it doesn’t help me get what I want.
The trouble is anytime I want my way, I can’t look at her and say, “Submit, woman!” for risk of sounding like an antiquated, overbearing, chauvinistic husband from the 40s. Yet, in turn, she can look at me with her big doe eyes and sweet face and say in the kindest of voices, “Babe, you need to die to that selfishness,” and suddenly she has played the super-Jesus-trump card of marriage.
Life around the house has changed completely. Take for instance:
Underwear – I spent 10 years collecting enough skivvies so I would only have to wash them once a month. Suddenly over half my underwear drawer is gone and the washer is running constantly. I’m just looking out for the environment, yet she’s pitching boxers in the trash and buying laundry detergent like it’s going out of style.
Passing Gas – Guys, just get it all out while you can. Go into every room of the house, let it rip and raise your hands in triumph as long as you’re the master of your domain because the rules change when there is a wedding band on your finger. The other night I let one slip under the covers and accidentally pulled the sheet over her head. You would have thought I committed a felony.
Pillows – Get acquainted with them because they will soon rule your life. Find a one-foot wide by four-foot tall space on the edge of your bed and become accustomed to sleeping in it. Excessive piles of monstrous pillows will dominate the rest of “your” bed.
Last of all, let’s talk about sex. Married sex is fantastic. However, if you think you’re going to roll around in bed all day with “Your Body is a Wonderland” by John Mayer on repeat in the background you are sadly mistaken. The truth is you’ll have 23 hours and 55 minutes left in the day and chances are your wife is going to want to fill a good portion of it with two things: communication and a hearty side of cuddling.
In fact, Mr. Bachelor, should you decide to one day take the plunge into marriage, I can predict the future:
You’ll walk in the door after a long day at work of the same stressful junk. Lights will be turned on, seemingly awaiting your arrival. Random unused candles will dot your homestead. Not only will your home be clean, it will look and smell delightful. And there in the middle of your kitchen, will stand a beautiful woman in an old t-shirt and shorts with an Us magazine in one hand and sponge in the other.
She’ll kiss you and say, “Hey babe, tell me ALL about your day!”
…
Dallas Cowboys blanket? I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Photo credit: Joelle Inge-Messerschmidt
