Like most twenty-something-year-old men, I shudder at the thought of walking down the aisle. And I’d venture to say I am not alone, judging by the looks on the faces of some of the men filing around the compound of Duke Lodge, the venue for the just-concluded wedding expo. You could tell from the moment they were led through the gates that it wasn’t their idea to go to a trade fair dedicated to their doom. Sure, some of them tried to affect an interested disposition but they shuffled around, eyes constantly shifting in every direction-always ending up in the direction of the exit. Not unlike the daily experience of many married men, I might add, all trying to escape from the biggest mistake of their lives.
But the expo offered an opportunity to consider the possibility of life on the other side. And there was no shortage of sales pitches by those manning the booths of companies (with annoying alliterative names like “Wedding Weavers” (?) or “Kreative Koncepts” (!!)) all promising to help make my dream wedding a reality. So, I tried to think of a good reason to get married. After all, in addition to the intricately designed invitations, the multi-layered wedding cakes and your choice of designer bridal gowns the wedding expo was selling matrimony.
Marriage is a serious business, you will learn, and its dealers don’t like to be fooled around with. Don’t ever make the mistake of even mentioning the possibility that you might not marry, or risk continuous glares of reproach that leave you with little option but to shuffle out of their owners’ sight.
– Are you married? I asked one of the exhibitors, having grown weary of being on the receiving end of questions about my intentions.
-Divorced…, she replied coolly, with just the faintest trace of outrage that was mostly likely in reaction to the temerity of my question.
She explained to me her belief that “marriage” is a gift from God, while making sure to frown upon those who settled for “living home” arrangements; despite her own unsuccessful quest for wedded bliss, she remained optimistic.
-It’s something everyone should experience, she said, some people experience it two or three times even.
It wasn’t an especially convincing argument, particularly when I considered a harsh reality of the stereotypes. Some of the saddest people I know are married and are actively planning ways out of them. You’ll notice that it is the men with the rings who are often the ones looking for something extra. On the other hand, some of the happiest are ‘living home’ and don’t seem to want for any more. I am glad to add that there are also people I know who have long, healthy and loving marriages, rubbishing the clichés of the henpecked husband and the nagging wife, though they are often the exception rather than the rule.
I haven’t completely written off marriage; in fact, there are times when it looks like an absolute relief from the anxieties of the dating game; from not knowing whether your relationship will work out, or whether you’ll even be lucky enough to find somebody with whom you can connect. But peace of mind hardly seems to qualify as a good reason for marriage. And there are plenty of good reasons. Like the need for human contact in a growing sea of communication where we grow cold and indifferent. Or, the need for words of comfort, reminding you that you exist, you are here. And of course, the need to be needed.
But none of this is the point; not really. Getting married is the easy part. It’s making it work that is the real challenge and somebody should have been selling how to do that. The closest thing I came to finding it was at one booth, where a woman behind the table stacked with edible undies and an assortment of sex toys was happy to tell me about how the market for teddies, handcuffs and dildos is still healthy. (Eat that global recession!) She told me that the toys are also good for maintaining intimacy and ensuring fidelity, whenever your partner is away. She also let me in on a little secret; in the business of purveying pornography and other forms of erotic entertainment, your customers are not customers – they are called freaks. Only not to their faces, I would imagine. (thescene@stabroeknews.com)
