A post up on Seasons of Tumult And Discord this morning which calls to task the popular and media-driven perception that married women get laid more than single men.
The comments predictably concur, including my own.
You have this modern pop culture which is really nothing but “pop.”
As in fueled by all that which the media conglomerates spew in order to rake in the dollar$.
Studies, marketing surveys, they all tell us what we know: the biggest media consumers are women in their 20s and 30s. They are the group that sits in front of the television most. They are the group which absorbs television through its porous membranes.
The mainstream media, knowing this, regurgitates its viewer’s wet dreams; in this case, the Grand Tale of the Prince Charming / Marriage Complex. Consequently all factual “information” which pours out their vacuous mouths is the popular meme that Marriage is Good; Marriage has Benefits; et fucking c.
How many studies have you heard of which proclaim that married people live longer!?
I loved Bill Maher’s take on this from his “Feminist” bit:
I was married for 7 years.
I experienced most facets of marriage I could ever experience within the bounds of sanity.
I realized something that I’ll never learn to forget.
Marriage is like brussel sprouts.
It delights some.
It disgusts others.
No one can deny the benefits.
There shouldn’t be judgment involved.
One’s perception and desire should not color their opinion.
I love brussel sprouts.
I don’t expect every one I meet to love them.
Why am I talking about brussel sprouts?
Don’t you love Phoenixism?
C’mon, lie if you have to.
I’m married to Phoenixism, actually.
I can sit here and spew about the instituion of marriage ad nauseum.
We are all married in one form.
Even my good righty friend, Mark.
The lowest amongst us are married to utter, debilitating solitude.
Married to the rug.
Married to an empty image.
What is wrong with being married to another person who complements your spiritual emptiness?
My parents have been married for 45 years.
You cannot live together with someone that long without a serious Adult Moment.
There is a dignity which I admire.
I wish it could be mine, but it’s not. And never will be.
My fatalistic nature always triumphs. Unhappiness is a strong draw.
I need what I want now.
I’m not incredibly forward-reaching. I know what will make me happy tomorrow.
But I need to be happy today.
The greatest of all fucking predicaments.
Athol has the balls to expose his married life to this coven of male interlopers.
We fear his life.
We run from it. Some of us have fled it. Escaped it.
But he lives it.
And who knows.
Maybe Athol is really a disgruntled and overweight middle-aged, unmarried woman from Connecticut.
The point is that Athol speaks for many happily married people.
Who cares the grounds of their happiness?
Be happy for yourself.
Derive happiness in your life.
Don’t worry about those stinking married people.