Jumping the Puddle

Sunday, April 09, 2006

I blame penicillin for my failed relationships

According to the CDC, the average life expectancy for men and women today is 74.8 and 80.1 respectively. In 1900, Americans lived to age 47 on average. Had I been born in 1900, my fiance and I (assuming we married at age 30, a big assumption of course), would promise to love each other for 17 years. Today, I would have to buckle up for a slightly longer 50 years. *

I am a romantic at heart and a serial monogamist. I love the comfort of being with someone who knows me and looks forward to the bountiful pancake meals I have to offer. No, YOU are the best! But recently I've developed a slight fear of commitment. Who is this person? I'm sorry but you seem to have the wrong mirror, so move along now. It's not the kind of ambivalence towards commitment that I embraced as part of my college foxylicious persona, which, given my Catholic schoolgirl roots, boiled down to three "no strings attached" second-base makeout sessions my freshman year of college. I loved my newfound ho-dome and treasured the mental vacation from planning seaside weddings. After an unusually heavy make out session, super-ho even sent a little handwritten note to Touchy Hands, informing him that, despite the wonderful times together to be treasured forever, the relationship could not continue. If anyone knew how exhausting dream wedding planning could be, it was me and cute soccer player in the red hat over there doing shots by the bar.

Today, I don't know if I can see myself sharing a life with someone for 50 years. Neither do I want to be in a funky arrangement where I live with someone until we realize that, hypothetically, I can no longer put up with his habit of cleaning glass surfaces with a clean thumb dipped in saliva.

I don't have a solution or great insights, but the following thoughts have been stewing:

-Mamalicious says that the spark fades, that the thrice daily booty pounding inevitably subsides and you're left with a permanent roommate who you kinda dig. So I should end up with someone who I admire in other ways.

-I am a bit disillusioned with romance because I caught seaside fiance #8 cheating with She Doesn't Mean Anything To Me Jones. Thanks to my new BFF Greg, I hold no ill feelings towards Ms. Jones and Mr. Tiny LooseCock, as satan spawns as they may be.

-I am still holding on to the idea that it's possible to meet someone who will make me stop thinking about the big questions, because it just feels right. That despite my list of 300 requirements to be met, maybe Love Things are just simple and uncomplicated, and I should just live in the moment and have faith. (This part should probably be read out loud by Sarah Jessica Parker).

THE END.

*This idea is not original, I read it "somewhere" at "some point," but unfortunately a quick Google search for "life expectancy AND marriage" mostly yields matches about how marriage makes people live longer.

2 Comments:

At 4/13/2006 8:12 AM, Blogger Jon said...

Yeah, but 100 years ago people got married when they were like 11. So that's still 30+ years of working on the farm together and not watching satellite television. Sounds pretty miserable, even if your main crop was Pancakes...

p.s. Great blog! Keep up the good work.

 
At 4/13/2006 8:59 PM, Blogger the other girl said...

I think it's good to look at statistics in dating... like the ratio of women to men in my area is 3 to 2 ... however, if I lived in say Montana, North Dakota or Minnesota its something like 4 men for every 2 women. Good odds. Plus I figure the 7 months of darkness they have on the frozen tundra could only help ... who doesn't look great in low light?

 

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