What’s the opposite of “prophetic”? I mean, what do you call it when you do something like, say get married for health insurance coverage and then read about it the very next day in the NY Times? I call it cool and kinda sad at the same time. Cool and sad? Like Robert Downey, Jr, pre-Iron Man.
So you probably can fill in the blanks here: yesterday, August 12, a day that will live in obliviousness because I’m bad with dates, was the day that I got married to my b-friend of almost 8 years. I like writing b-friend instead of “boyfriend” because it could also mean “best friend”. Which is exactly what he also is. He’s fantastic and I relished the thought of being 80-years old and still calling him my b-friend. But alas, those dreams were dashed with a bout of unemployment and an even more frightening case of “I don’t need a job! I’m going FREELANCE!” Add to that a scare from a little asshole I call the deer tick and you’ve got the makin’s of an ol’ fashion SHOTGUN WEDDIN’! YEEEE HAAAAW!
So I guess now, you just replace “pregnant gal” with “coverage-less gal (or guy)”. And instead of an angry father presiding with a shotgun, you got greedy creditors waiting to pounce at the first sign of lyme’s disease. And where once stood a dirt floor, bare feet and a minister named Jeb, there’s now a Thai restaurant in Philly’s Chinatown on a Tuesday with our best pals and closest family who could make it on 2 days notice. Or maybe I’m just extrapolating my experience. Probably not the best idea because despite the short notice and the business-like arrangement, I have known the dude for a ton of years. We own a freakin’ HOUSE together. So it wasn’t like we were blushing at the thought of sharing the marital bed for the first time. Christ, we’ve been together for so long I’ve seen spinach stuck between every single one of his teeth. Why do people feel the need to have (insert your state here) bless their love? I mean, I hate to tell you this little ones, but marriage is a business arrangement.
Ever since Abraham strolled into Canaan with his hottie Sarah, marriage has been about donkeys and land and pieces of gold. In other words, everything that sustains two people EXCEPT love. That “love” thing is just a novelty. So I’m lucky. I DO love him. In ways that are beyond words. Ways that are too special to simply write down. Ways that reside in the joy when you look at him and he doesn’t know you’re looking at him. Or when you see something that you’ve never seen him do before. Those are like the little precious jewels of a relationship and they escape words. So I’m lucky. And I didn’t need a piece of fucking paper to tell me that.
But apparently, his insurance company did…