Good-bye Sequins, Good-bye Elvis

so i went to vegas for the first time a couple weeks ago. what a freak show. i'm not really into gambling -- i think because i don't understand why it's fun ... i like to play UNO with my sister and that's FREE -- but i do enjoy sparkly things and people-watching. so i wandered around wide-eyed in my sequins and dark eyeliner, drinking 52-oz strawberry daiquiris in football-shaped containers, marveling at the lights and energy and craziness ... and checking out the late-night wedding chapels. i had fun, but it was a bit overwhelming for this little country girl, and i didn't last much into the second night before i didn't care if i ever saw another neon light, slot machine, transvestite, deuce bus, 99-cent shrimp cocktail, etc. ever again and marched myself up to bed.

it also did not take long for me to decide that i no longer want to get married in las vegas (in the presence of elvis and with all guests clad in sequins), even though this has been my dream for as long as i can remember. it will still be an event with as little annoying planning of minute details as i can get away with, and everyone is still welcome to wear sequins, but there is no way i would marry someone that i actually like amid such schmaltz and imprudence. and i plan to marry someone that i actually like. a lot.

in response to my last post, tiger pointed me towards this article, marry him! the case for settling for mr. good enough, which advises women to forget about passion and start thinking about developing a good family infrastructure. because if you marry with great expectations, you are more likely to become disillusioned and resentful.

this article makes me squint my eyes and purse my lips -- a look generally reserved for the judge when she's being uncooperative with my monday morning demands -- perhaps because my entire life goal is not to procreate. this is one of many reasons that mormons make me nervous (a fact that i recently discovered, having moved to the southwest where they are found in abundance.) i don't have anything against kids, but feel like i am capable of living a productive, meaningful life without recreating myself in miniature, and then spending 18+ years trying to make sure it doesn't turn out like me.

there IS a reason people become disillusioned and resentful in marriage -- it's because they don't want to put any effort into it. relationships are work. romantic relationships especially, but it still takes a considerable amount of time and effort, mainly in the form of listening and talking, to maintain close friendships and family ties and even amicability with co-workers. the real trick is finding someone who understands that and who isn't going to give up on you. why bother putting all that work into someone who only makes you marginally happy? that, people, is bad economics. if i am going to devote my energy to some boy, he'd better inspire me to answer the door for him in just my apron every once in a while.

and why do you have to overlook the poor movie etiquette and abysmal fashion sense? i dated a guy in college whose whole life goal at the time was to achieve immortality. literally. he wanted to live forever. it's easy to admit that this is weird -- less easy to admit that i didn't love him in spite of this oddity, but because of it. i date a guy now who constantly questions my motivation, my authenticity and my thought process. (he also insists on taking a whiz outside -- usually from a high perch -- anytime there is an appreciable breeze and yells "OH shit" anytime we pass a law enforcement officer, usually leading me to believe i'm about to plow through a javelina in the middle road until i notice there are red-and-blues flashing 100 miles off in the distance.) these things drive me crazy, but i don't overlook them. instead, every time they happen i roll my eyes and smile. on the inside at least.

i've got 3 words for lori gottlieb and her theory on settling: fuck that shit. i don't want to be "relatively content" with a "stable, reliable life companion." i can be "relatively content" by myself, eating frozen thin mints, watching futurama, dancing around in my underwear on friday nights, and hanging out with other people's kids. and in fact, i can be a whole step higher at "actually content" doing these things and knowing that i don't have to wonder what i may have passed up in marrying the first good ol' reliable joe-schmoe to buy me a (probably sensibly modest) diamond ring after my 35th birthday. i've got bigger plans than sensibility and complacency.

so, while i may have a more conventional wedding than i had originally planned, i will never, ever settle for a conventional husband. there will still be big old sequins behind my eyes.