Wife Me Bad BoyBy: Chance Carter
You want to know the truth about men? You want to know what we really think?
All right, I’ll tell you, but you might not like it.
Men hate weddings.
There, I said it.
I feel bad, I know it’s a really special day for every girl who ever dreamed of being a bride, but it’s the truth, and you’re better off hearing it from me now than some other guy later.
Men despise weddings the way women despise breakups, or being cheated on, or growing old. Weddings go against everything we stand for, threaten our very view of the world, and our place within it.
I’m not just speaking for myself. It’s not just me who thinks this way. It’s all men. Every last one of us hates weddings. It’s practically a requirement for being a man.
Think about it.
How do we like to view ourselves? How do we really like to imagine the way the world sees us?
A sailor, coasting into the sunset. A pirate on the high seas, just us and our ship against everything the ocean has to throw at us. A cowboy, alone on our horse, riding into town and every woman looking our way. A biker, cruising the open road, the wind in our hair and the sun on our face.
We’re simple creatures. We like simple things.
Just me and my horse and my gun, baby. Just me and my ship and my compass. Just me and my bike and a tank of gas. Hell, you don’t even have to get that fancy. Just me and my truck and my dog, baby. How’s that?
It’s the way we’re built. We’re strong. We’re rugged. We stand alone.
Rocks. Islands. Mountains.
That’s how we see ourselves. And there’s no room in there for flower arrangements and party favors and violin music.
Hell. A wedding comes along, dresses you in a goofy suit, sticks a flower on your lapel, puts a ring on your finger. It’s like having your nuts cut off with a blunt razor.
It’s literally painful to watch, even when you’re not the one on the chopping block. We watch our buddies getting married and we shake our heads. “Never me,” we say. “You won’t catch me going down without a fight. I’m the lone fucking ranger. It would be a crime to hang up these spurs.”
We watch our friends get married like they’re volunteering to be neutered. And we’re all thinking the same thing. How can he do it? How can he give up so much life, so much adventure, just to be someone’s husband? Has he lost his mind?
And I know what you’re going to say. I’ve heard it all before.
It’s love. Love overcomes everything. Love conquers the world. Love makes you want to spend your whole life with that one special someone, that one woman who lights up your world like a Christmas tree.
Maybe I just don’t get it. Maybe it’s me. I mean, you see other men getting married every day and they seem happy enough. They seem to be going along willingly.
Maybe I’m just a big, fat, stinking idiot. It wouldn’t be the worst thing someone called me. But if being an idiot is the price for maintaining my freedom, I’ll pay it. I’ll pay that price any day of the week.
So mark these words. I, Grant Lucas, will never get married. You will never see me standing at the altar, a cheesy grin on my face, a violin wailing in the background, saying “I do.”
I Do Not.
How’s that for being clear?
And if you ever see me about to tie the knot, do me a huge favor. Do me this one, almighty solid.
Shoot me in the face.
But maybe there’s something I’m missing, because even though I’m a sworn bachelor, every once in a while I get a glimpse of a different world. A place that’s warm, and safe, and tender, and full of love.
What is it about me, about my life, about the way I grew up, that makes me so afraid of love? What is it that makes me shudder at the very thought of marriage? Losing it, that’s what. Losing love.
Can you imagine a greater pain than the pain of losing the one you love? Because I can’t.
I’ve said my share about weddings, but the day Jackson and Faith tied the knot was different.
Jackson looked happy. As much as it pains me to admit it, the man had a smile on his face like he’d pulled off some secret coup. He looked happier than I’d ever seen him, and we’d been through it all together.
He waited a long time for that day, and he was about to marry the woman of his dreams, the woman who’d given him a child, the woman who’d been faithful to him for twelve long years. She was so loyal even her name was Faith. And they were finally tying the knot.
Even I could admit it was a good story, painful and difficult, full of danger and despair, but full too of hope and joy, laughter and tears, and most important of all, love.
Maybe I was getting soft, but it touched me.