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Even Spiders Need Friends |
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Previously
published in Space Coast Review magazine |
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Humor Menu |
Everything in life is a
matter of perception. Where one person sees crisis, another sees
opportunity. Optimists and pessimists will always view identical
situations in different ways. I am a great example of the “half-full” side of life taken to the extreme. After all, who else but an optimist would make a list of the 10 greatest events of his life an include both his marriage and divorce? The list, an assignment for a psychology class, proved to me how an optimistic view of life can put a positive spin on any event. According to my psychology professor, the list proved I should be taking massive doses of Prozac. I guess it’s just a matter of perception. Not that my marriage and divorce are equal in importance. My divorce is the greatest thing that ever happened to me. My nine-year marriage squeaked onto the list at number 10, narrowly edging out the weekend I spent snowed in with a support group for women suffering from sexual addiction. Had the snow plows failed to arrive for a few more days my divorce would have slid into the number two slot and my marriage would never have made the list. But, my marriage did make the list, meaning either I have led an incredibly uneventful life, or, despite my having overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I still believe marriage to be a wonderful institution. I like to believe it’s the latter. Marriage truly is a wonderful institution. It’s just that despite the opinion of my psychology professor and most of my relatives, I’m convinced I don’t belong in an institution. |
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| When Bonnie and I
eloped - at the tender ages of 16 and 19 respectively - our optimistic
natures led us to believe marriage would be nothing but fun and games.
Bonnie secretly believed she could change my sexist, Neanderthal ways,
and I believed my sweet, innocent bride would never change. Only one of
us was got our wish. If only I'd known then ... If only I'd known the sweet woman I married would someday become her mother’s emotional twin. I should have realized from the beginning that having a mother-in-law who frequently traveled to Haiti to buy wax figures of me didn’t bode well for the success of my marriage. |
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| Bonnie & Glenn in 1977 (three months before experiencing marital bliss). | |||
| At first I believed my
mother-in-law’s viscous attitude to be a normal reaction to an
arrogant punk who eloped with her 16-year-old daughter. Why else would
she become giddier than Pat Buchanan at a deportation hearing each time
Bonnie and I had an argument? It had to be my fault, or so I once
believed. I soon realized the answer was much simpler; my mother-in-law
was the Antichrist. The signs were everywhere. Her friends nicknamed her Endora; she had no reflection when she passed in front of a mirror; and, when she fell asleep on the couch she floated two feet over it. Little did I know my future ex-wife would soon follow in her footsteps. Our marriage began smoothly. "Do you promise to love, honor and obey?" I heard the district justice utter those words, and I heard my bride say, "I do." I was overjoyed! The love and honor portion was no big deal, but when she actually promised to obey, I knew married life was going to be one long margarita-drenched day at the beach. It actually began that way--breakfast in bed, three hot meals a day, laundry washed and ironed--everything a sexist pig fantasizes about. Then, after two weeks of heaven, marriage began. I came home from work one evening, expecting my new bride to fulfill my every desire as always. "Hi sweetheart," I said, "how about a nice cup of coffee?" "That sounds wonderful, darling," she replied, "I'll take cream & sugar." "Isn't that precious?" I snickered. "You're beautiful, and you have a sense of humor. I'm going to watch Monday Night Football. Would you mind fetching me a Budweiser before you get my slippers?" "Can't you see I'm reading?" she snapped. "Wow, she's both witty and literate! I’ve struck gold." "Don’t be a smart ass. I'm through being your slave! Marriage is an equal partnership. Haven't you ever heard of the E.R.A.? The concept of marriage being an equal partnership was quite a radical idea back in 1977, but I wasn’t about to let her change the subject by bringing up the Earned Run Average. I knew I had her there. Match wits with me? Not a chance! "Of course I've heard of the E.R.A.," I answered smugly, "That's the average number of runs a pitcher gives up every nine innings." |
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  The happy couple a few years later. Bonnie proceeded to explain
her version of the E.R.A. which sounded frighteningly like feminism.
Suggesting I read about it in a magazine her mother had lent her, she
held the magazine aloft. When I saw the magazine’s name, Cosmopolitan,
I cowered in the corner making the sign of the cross. |
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