COLUMN: The Married Question
If you’re a single person that has lived in Utah for more than 20 minutes and happen to be over 14 years old, you have probably been asked the question, “So, why aren’t you married yet?”
Often people ask this question because they are tactless to a stupid extent. We should take pity on these ill-bred skunkmuppets, ensuring that they are promptly returned to Wyoming; where they can act stupid with reckless abandon.
But more often than not, the question is asked by married people, and is basically code for, “GREAT ZEUS, MAN! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU? You hit puberty years ago; you should be popp’n kids out like a PEZ dispenser!”
If you’re clever, you might answer with swift repartee along the lines of, “I guess my habitual cocaine use freaks a lot of people out. Go figure.”
But, let’s be honest. You’re not clever. If you were, you would already be married. Unless you’re egregiously unattractive; in that case, no amount of cleverness will ever, ever compensate … I’m sorry.
But, even if you are somewhat tolerable to look at, once again you’re still not all that bright; ergo, your present status of quiet desperation … and mine, too.
I’m turning 25 years old this November. It’s been duly noted by all humanity that I’m closing in on the “Menace-To-Society” age. This title is attributed to LDS men that have graduated from junior high and remain unmarried.
Never mind that I’ve never knocked-off the State Liquor Store or dipped kittens in honey and fed them to angry badgers; both of which would be reason enough to label me as a menace. No … I’m old and unmarried, a literal Menace-To-Society. Entire communities lay awake at night quivering with fear at the prospect of having me on the streets.
As a Menace-To-Society, your name becomes ineffable; only to be uttered in hushed whispers by freshmen as you walk down the halls of the church building.
“He’s almost 25 years old!” One freshmen girl will say to another.
“And he’s NOT married?”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“I think he’s gay.”
“Omigosh! I totally LOVE gay people. They are SO cool.”
“ME too!”
“Let’s go have a pillow-fight in our underwear!”
“OK!”
“Hurrah!”
In any case, back to my point. Being old and socially ousted has proffered me with years of experience in fielding the “married question.”
When people ask me why I’m not married yet; I typically choke back the bile of resentment and reply with the cursory, “I just haven’t found the right girl yet.”
This is my quiet way of saying, “I’m waiting for plural marriage to be lawfully reinstated.” At which point I would laugh at the incongruity between my subconscious and reality; considering that I struggle with managing multiple socks, let alone multiple wives AND multiple socks. No sir, it’s either one or the other for me. And really … what’s life without socks?
Of course, saying that you “haven’t-found-the-right-person” can mean a variety of things depending on your field of study.
For instance, if you’re majoring in Natural Resources, it translates as, “I’m trying to find the right girl, but it’s so hard to tell which of my classmates are female.”
For the thespians in Theatre Arts, it can be interpreted as, “It’s currently illegal for me to get married in the manner I desire outside of Hawaii or Vermont.”
And lastly, if you’re studying FHD (i.e., Home Economics), it’s code for, “C’mon, I’m majoring in FHD for Pete’s sake! I’M TRYING! What? Do you think I’m actually going to use this crap?”
Summarily, the more I reflect on my current situation and that of the other society-menacing geriatrics over 25 years old, the more I realize that in the long run everything is going to be OK. We’re all in the same boat. Well, except the Theatre Art guys. They’re in the boat filled with lithe young men wearing Speedos and feather boas. But, it’s a boat nonetheless.
Blake W. Bingham is a senior in engineering. He has a roommate from Wyoming. E-mail your complaints to bwb@cc.usu.edu, where they will be forwarded to every living soul in his address book for public scrutiny.