Hitch your wagon

I don’t know if it’s the war on terror? The contraceptive pill leaching back into us via deep sea fish? The fear of turning on the tele and being mortar attacked by that nutter screaming about the 4 day wet bra container sale? Or maybe “the 30’s” approaching fast and the paralysing anxiety of growing old alone. But every one I know is getting married.

Are they all stark raving run-through-Westfield-wearing-nothing-but-antlers-and-a-demented-stare mad? I know the wedding is supposed to be the brides big day. But honestly it’s a pretty sad indictment on our society if a girl pathologically needs to have the undivided attention of a 100 or so people for a full day to feel like she’s complete. I mean maybe hundreds of years ago when women were kept in cupboards it would be understandable. But come on it’s the 21st century. The average wedding in Australia costs 35K. You could pay a hundred extras 50 bucks each to stalk your beloved for a day mobbing her with cameras and a chorous of “work it gorgeous work it” every time she as much as blinks and be $30 000 ahead. Not to mention how many months of 5 star Thailand villa luxury that kind of money buys you.

Marriage is not a leap of faith it’s a cult. And everyone in it is desperate to sign you up. Once you reach a certain age, you so much as bring a new girlfriend to your married friends house and your bombarded with thumbs ups, knowing nods and, “I really like her I think she could be the one”
“Yes she could be the one. The one that’s going to cop a shellacking on the revolving water bed when I get her back to my place”

If nearly 50% of marriages end in divorce then isn’t it a little, at best, fake and at worst, totally bloody remiss of us not to be warning our friends that the deck is stacked against them, the split everything down the middle poorhouse always wins??? Instead of smiling and crying with joy as they pass through the human arch way at the end of the reception we should be discreetly handing them a survival pack containing his and hers stickers so they can label who originally owned what, gaffer tape for when they need some nag free quiet time, Betadine (for the odd severe Chinese burn) and a list of the top 10 divorce lawyers in town.

And what’s going on with receptions? They really need a 21st century make over. Musical chairs to see who gets the brides garter should be replaced by a show of hands to see which of the groom’s mates hasn’t snogged her. Throwing the bouquet could really benefit from a series of SURVIVOR style immunity challenges.  And the bridal waltz should be replaced by 10 three-minute rounds for the undisputed world championship of whose going to wear the pants.

And what the hell is going on with those bloody registries? Nothing is more predictable and embarrassing than the single guy heading into MYER the week before his friend’s  big day to see what’s left on the official list. Six weeks later he receives a lovely card from the Bride and Groom saying, “Thanks for helping to make our night so special we will treasure the magnificent silver plated toilet brush for ever.” Nothing like the personal touch. I may as well have thrown in some Anusol wipes and a two for one colonoscopy voucher. Mind you at least were not as bad as the Yanks instead of presents the new trend in the US is giving money toward the mortgage. Imagine getting a card that says thanks for sharing our special night and making the June repayment and the first three days of July.