Rendezvous
15 June 06 : 12.43 AM
An entry by Paige (she's so full of wisdomosity, and I'm not linking her up because I'm selfish like that, and not to mention, lazy) titled "You're Out of the Marriage Pool" mentions how the boyfriend has denied any form of tattooed creature the right to stay in the marriage pool, being both appalled and bewildered by their choice to get inked.
Does this mean my time is up? Am I destined to be out of the marriage pool even before a marriageable age? If I was kicked out of the marriage pool because people found my (still prominent) collection of Mary-Kate & Ashley books on my shelves, I probably did deserve the boot. But to think it had something to do with indelible ink stains on my back. Go figure.
I could think of at least 10 good reasons why I'm not marriage pool material, and having a tattoo isn't even number 11. On the other hand, here are some of the ways I kept my toes in the water... (Take note, potential proposers)
1. I can sew. I once sewed this Precious Moments embroidery thing for Jon (never gave it to him though, I liked it too much), and it turned out pretty god damn good. Sure there were some bumps here and there, and maybe the little tot's eyes look a little crossed, but when you frame it up and place it on some really high shelf, it looks almost perfect.
2. I don't hog the bathroom. Okay, so I used to take 3 hour long baths, but not anymore. I'm so practical I'm a man already. 15 minutes, tops. Shampoo, Condition, Soap while Conditioning, Cleanse, Dry. Which brings me to my next point,
3. I bathe. I never liked bathing as a kid, but then again, I was never sweaty never dirty (or so I think). Actually, I still don't like bathing, but I have a tugging feeling I actually do so to stay in the marriage pool, or at the least, the dating pool.
4. I cherish fidelity. I suspect everyone has a secret desire to cheat on their spouse/beau/call-girl, but that thought scares me endlessly. Perhaps in my moral universe (or just my extreme case of bad luck, to get my period while wearing white shorts or to chance upon that someone I told I'm out of the country), you can never get away with stuff like that, or the boomerang effect is much more than you can take.
5. My tolerance for bad taste. While gay bags with conspicious personal messages are strictly not tolerated, I condone shiny black wallets, combs with sharp pointed ends, extreme hiphopism, retro clothes and the list goes on. Anything worse? I say bring it on. I dated this guy who seemed pretty normal at first sight, but who knew he had the male equivalent of a hot pink brassiere with yellow trimmings hidden deep inside his closet? I continued dating him for a while more before I decided that hanging out at gay bars with him instantaneously pulls me out of the marriage pool.
The truth is, I struggled with the 5 points, and while trying to think of these 5, I thought up like 3 times as many reasons why I'm destined to be a cat-rearing spinster. And I don't even like animals much. So singlehood is the new married life, and perhaps down the road I'm going to realize that I don't really wanna be in the pool, but I'm an old-fashioned girl, the rings and the flowers are too much to resist.
And no. No examples from me of my un-marriageability, because I'm banging on my 5 very weak points to keep me in the marriage pool.
I'm dabbling in shallow waters, but still, dabbling nonetheless.