Deacon Doubtmonger

I think quite a lot depends on what cultural baggage people bring into marriage. In my case, Mrs. Doubtmonger and I are approaching 20 years this fall. I've "felt married" that whole time ... and love it! We've succeeded largely because we've both got seriously questioning minds, and were thus able to refute each piece of the stereotype that marriage is a long gray ooze into stodgehood:

(1) First off, who has any business saying monogamy can't be red-hot and happy? A little deep contemplation from both head and heart readily reveals the joy and benefits of mutual sexual exclusivity. As NY Times columnist Barbara Lazear Ascher once said of why adultery is wrong, "Someone else is having all the fun," and I loved her response to the oft-heard protest that an off-marriage encounter "didn't mean anything": "That's like a burglar leaving a note behind saying, 'Nothing personal.' It may not be personal, but all the same, you've been robbed. You've been had."

(2) We forget about sexual "schedules" as well; we realize modern life doesn't always allow passion to bloom on a frequency and timetable determined by some ivory-tower (ivory-phallus?) academic sexologist.

(3) We don't dress stereotypically for the bedroom either; my wife is much sexier comfortable in a cotton sleep shirt than she'd be with leather blistering her skin and a garter belt snapping and stinging her on the (magnificent) leg.

(4) And are she and I the only ones who think John Gray should be tied to a saguaro and ripped apart with gaffhooks for this Mars/Venus crap??? At a time when stereotypes should be exposed in all their naked ludicrousness, he (perhaps unwittingly) is still perpetuating them. Imagine my surprise to find out I like to "retreat into my cave" when I'm stressed. Sure -- then I take off my work clothes, put on a leopard-skin loincloth, smash my dearest in the head with a club, drag her by the hair into the bedcavern, force her to watch a Rambo movie with me, then start groping and pawing and mauling her breasts trying to get some action, because "a man needs sex in order to open up to feelings of love."

(5) Finally, it helps that I'm not a sports fan ... though who knows? Maybe KVOD will have a particularly interesting concerto on Colorado Spotlight one day, and I'll park myself in front of the radio in a dirty T-shirt with a Budweiser and a bag of Cheetos:

MRS.: Honey, I really had a rough day today ...

ME: Not now, the concert's on GODDAMMIT, OZAWA, YOU BUM!!! HOW CAN YOU DRAG THAT PASSAGE??? IS THAT A BATON IN YOUR HAND OR A HACKSAW?!?

MRS. (venturing a tentative embrace): Do you know how long it's been since we've just curled up and cuddled?

ME (shoving her off): I know, I know GALWAY, YOU FRIGGIN' PUSSY!!! THAT CADENZA IS SUPPOSED TO BE LEGATO!!! ARE THOSE FINGERS ON THAT FLUTE OR SAUSAGES?!?

MRS. (aside, simmering): So John Gray thinks a woman wants to talk about her feelings and be empathized with instead of solving her problems, eh? We'll see about that! (Stalks off angrily and returns with her own flute): ALL RIGHT, YOU BEAST! IS THIS HOW IT SHOULD BE PLAYED?!? (shoves flute up my bumhole and executes the passage perfectly while inflating my colon to the bursting point ...)

Question those stereotypes! It saved you from religion ... it can save you from a boilerplate pseudo-marriage!

Deacon Doubtmonger

"Unlike some other gods I could mention, I can actually see the sun ... as it gives me everything I need -- heat, light, food, flowers in the park, reflections on the lake ... an occasional skin cancer, but hey! At least there are no crucifixions, and we're not settin' people on fire simply because they don't agree with us!"

--George Carlin on becoming a sun worshipper