22 May Who you can marrry when I die.
Shakespeare said,”Woman, thy name is misery!” Now that either means –
A. it totally sucks to be a woman. (Because men are such awful jerks to us.)
B. Women make life totally miserable for everyone around them. ( Especially for the men in their life because we can be such awful jerks to them.)
Read on and lets see what YOU would choose…
I believe in that quote that says “If ye are prepared ye shall not fear.” (translation – expect the worst so it doesnt catch you off guard.) And Im also a control freak. So I have already planned what the Hot Man should do if I suddenly drop dead. Or get obliterated by a falling meteorite. Hit by a bus. Abducted by aliens from Mars. Or bit by a black widow spider that has hitched a ride from South America in the green grapes i bought from the market. Or what if I choke on a chicken bone when Im alone at home and there’s nobody to do the Heimlich maneouver or call 911? ( I could go on and on – but you get the idea.Death could be stalking me at this very moment. And my significant Other should be ready.)
I told the Hot Man that when I die, I want him to remarry. Sooner rather than later. Because I dont want the Fab Five going without a mother for very long. I’ve even made a shortlist of women he’s strongly recommended to choose as a suitable partner. (And NO I told him, sorry but Angelina Jolie does NOT meet the shortlist requirements.)
The Hot Man doesnt believe in expecting the worst. He doesnt want to discuss the possibility of my imminent death. And he thinks my plans for his remarriage are silly. But he sighs, rolls his eyes and humors me – as he so often does. “Fine. I’ll marry who ever you want me to.” Then I asked him, what should I do if he dropped dead? Any tips I should keep in mind for bravely facing life without him? He didnt hesitate with his reply,
“Oh I dont need to worry about that.”
“But if you really love me, you should have plans and good advice for me and the children!” ( I was feeling faintly aggrieved. Didnt the man love me enough to suss out his possible replacement?!)
He waved his hand airily. “Nah, you wont have any trouble finding another husband. I mean look at you!”
I am touched. Here we are speaking of his possible death by meteorite and he is complimenting me! What a sweet man. I prompt him for more details. “Why, whatever do you mean dahling?” (Smile encouragingly. Wait for glowing list of admirable attributes…)
“If I die, heaps of single men would love to marry you – you own your own home, you have another investment rental property, you have land, and cars – dont forget the Holden! Go for a drive in that and for sure you’ll find a date. Look at all the stuff you’ve got, for sure you’ll have so many guys after you, especially younger men who dont have jobs or much money yet. You dont have to worry.”
OH. REALLY. I SEE. Eyes narrow. Smile fades. Sarcasm drips. “So what youre saying is, that I would be a total catch because I’ve got lots of worldly possessions. I would be a hot stud magnet especially for hot younger men. Like those Cougar women on tv right?”
He runs on unwittingly, entangling himself deeper. “Yes! Exactly!”
“But unlike those cougar women on tv who are hot-as.. I would be attracting every unemployed/broke/ homeless/car-less/lazy-as/talent-less/hopeless loser because of all the stuff I own?! Nothing to do with ME at all?”
Comprehension dawns. Along with horror. Ooops. He tries to backpeddle. “No! Thats not what I meant. Thats not what I said!”
I am merciless. “Yes it is. You just told me that the ONLY reason I would score another husband is because losers would want my money, my house, my car, my TV, my lawnmower, my drill set and other assorted tools.” (I wont bother saying HIS house/tools/assorted crap etc because he’ll be dead remember.)
He is blustering. Shaking his head. Trying unsuccessfully to get out of this nightmare of his own making.
“Yes – thats EXACTLY what you meant. Nothing about me being the bestest wife you ever had, the most amazingest mother your children will ever have, the superest cook you ever lived with, the sexiest babe to ever wash your dishes, the cleverest Cougar who ever cougared…no. Nothing about how I just totally ROCK YOUR WORLD! Because all I’ve got going for me is my measly worldly possesions. Thanks. Thanks a lot!”
He’s shaking his head. Rolling his eyes. Muttering under his breath. If I was a lipreader I would bet my career that he’s mouthing words like…”This woman is crazy! She’s driving me NUTS!”
I’ve had it with this conversation. Im about to storm off. Then I remember something and turn back. “Oh and you can give me back that list of second wives, you hear me?! You dont deserve any of them. When I die – you just go ahead and marry the first horrible skanky ho you meet!And I hope she steals all your money, burns your house down, crashes your car and sells all your tools on Trademe. So there.”
Yes, Shakespeare expressed it beautifully.
“Woman, thy name is misery!”