Do I plan on it?
♪ No-no, no, no, no, no-no-no, no, no-no, no, no-no
Na-no, no, na-no, no-no, na-no, no-no, no, no-no, no
Nobody can do the (Shing-a-ling!) like I do
Nobody can do the (Skate!) like I do
Nobody can do (Boogaloo!) like I do
Nobody can do (Philly!) like I do ♫
Oh, right. . . marriage. Ahem.
After careful consideration I think that I *could* get married hypothetically if some really hot chick did something crazy that demonstrated both her intellect and intense desire to be with me. Like make a documentary about her quest to get with me. Or more realistically, just learn how to cook low-carb meals.
Really though - I can't stand it when I see the warped reality in AFC-land, where the girl is getting upset and impatient because the guy in the LTR hasn't hit the
red button yet, and he's getting dogged left and right by the other crabs in the barrel to hitchhike to the nearest jewelry store to "do the right thing."
You know who else "did the right thing" under duress of conformity? Everyone whose dreams died somewhere along the line. Every man who quietly said to himself about his life, "Well, I guess this is as good as it gets."
It's not that the higher ideals of a synergistic relationship and shared life together with a woman who compliments you are so wrong, but that institution and its strongest proponents have so entirely bastardized the concept into a materialized celebration of male castration. It's like the commercialization of Christmas. What used to be a celebration of life is now a multi-billion dollar marketing ploy that amplifies and exploits the sh1t out of male insecurity. It's not just the event itself, but all the expectations of a lifestyle of excess that follow. The debt. The decor. The demands of suburbia.
Now, don't mistake this post for bitterness, paranoia, or irrational fear of commitment. Those are the cries of the ego-invested. Rather, my take is that all the qualities which would make a particular woman a suitable lifetime mate for me are the same qualities which would render marriage unnecessary. She'd have to exist outside the matrix in order for it to work. Happiness to her doesn't mean entitled expectations of the Barbie Dream House, complete with a Ken doll and accessorized children. The irony is that her independent thinking streak and healthy outlook on life and femininity would actually end up rewarding her far more than she'd ever get by living The Way™.
She'd get a Man of adventure and substance. A Man who has built a compelling reality on his terms. The Man I'm working to become.
My plan is 100% indifference to marriage unless there is a scenario in my life for which it
truly makes sense. It's not a goal or a foregone conclusion; it's just another choice that's out there.