MARRIAGE

I was thinking about my childhood yesterday and laughing about how things change. Also wondering if there was a story. Not that I want to do anything but write short stories – like in this blog. I doubt I could hold a book together.

Around here I am a confirmed bachelor. This is not prideful (I hope) but that’s heartbreak to more than one woman. That’s just a reality. It has everything to do with the men to women ratio. And even more to do with the number of acceptable men. I suppose this is bragging, pride or stupid, but I am about the most acceptable man here. Admittedly most of the women look for someone who is alive and walks. No very high standards. I guess I surpass the minimum standard.

I make them made because I think its funny. I can’t help myself. I flirt with a fair number of them. They love it and I get a kick out of it. That’s when I feel like I’m in high school. Have fun, enjoy, but don’t touch. And I don’t want to either. I suppose this is a little too romantic, but I have never wanted a woman other than my wife. I know I am free to move on. But I’m also pretty set in my ways. I’m not sure I want my way of life disrupted. When I first moved after Della died, people commented on the house reminding them so much of Della. That’s because I always did the decorating. What the appearance did was remind them of me, but they didn’t know that. I was a workaholic when she passed and I was free to work 7-80 hours a week and totally invest myself in what I was called to do. I liked that.

Scriptures talks about the wife of our youth, and I have though a lot about that. I was 24 and Della 23 when we married. We had no concept of what it took to merge two lived together. We just did it. I have always said we grew up together and we liked what each other liked, or we merged out preferences. We talked about every little thing and came to an agreement on what we liked and how we would live.

We are from a previous generation and held many of the same values as our parents. There was a fairly distinct understanding of male and female roles in marriage. We bought into most of them. I had responsibility for the yard and car; she had responsibility for the house. There were a couple of differences. She insisted that I be part of meal preparation and cleanup. I was sure that was not my job, but relented. I set and cleared the table and helped with the dishes. I also helped with food preparation and did what I was told. It took a while to come to enjoy that.

I was expected to be responsible for household repairs. My dad tried to teach me some of that, but I resisted. I did not like dealing with plumbing, electricity, mechanical things or hammer and saw repairs. Unfortunately, Della’s dad liked that stuff and did it quickly. I had to stew over it, doubt myself and build up courage to tackle most of those things. She was not happy with my delays. I always believed God created repairmen for a purpose — to rescue people like me. The hard part was we rarely had the money to take advantage of people like that. There were times friends helped out. I always felt like I was using them and didn’t like the feeling. It is amazing how much I learned about household care of the years. One of my favorite things about this place is that I can call the repair line and someone else comes and fixes things. Yeah!

I like my life. I am comfortable with who I am and where I am. I have no objection to others getting married at any old age. It’s just not for me. The men here are dull. They hide out and rarely enter into conversations. The raised my value significantly. If I do anything around her it is done with women. I’m fine with that. I would rather be with emotionally healthy women than terrified me. I have no intention of marrying any of them. I have always said that the only woman for me other than the wife I had would be one in her late 90’s, not very healthy, who has not family and is extremely wealthy. Every one deserves a little love and tenderness in their last days. No one seemed to ever think that was funny. I did. That only proves I am weird enough to remain alone to the end. But I’m never really alone. None of us really are.