Turnaround Bright Eyes

Weddings… What can I say that hasn’t been said already? Weddings totally rock! Yeah, I know, I’m against the whole marriage and commitment thing, but the actual event, the wedding itself, is just an amazing experience. And I’m not saying this just because it gives me a perfect opportunity to throw out lines from the movie Old School. Which, by the way, is not only a great movie, but a timeless classic.

Maybe you’ll want the full story. Saturday, one of my fraternity brothers got married. It’s always a joyous occasion when someone you’ve known throughout your college career finally settles down with a woman he holds close to his heart. Yes, I’m a sucker for that lovey-dovey sentimentality crap. Also, there was an open bar.

Few other phrases in the English language can inspire so much wonder and excitement as those two words: open bar. Just writing the words is making me giddy. I want everyone out there to know, I went to the wedding because both Josh and Monica are very dear friends of mine and I would carry out any favor they needed at the drop of a hat. They’re just that awesome. But the much less compelling and highly secondary reason I attended the wedding this weekend was for my other very dear friend, alcohol.

I hope you all are already aware of my penchant for that particular aqueous substance. As far as I’m concerned it’s a magical elixir that chases away bad things. It also happens to make my friends much more interesting and certain people much more bearable. Though I think the surgeon general needs to add the following warning label to all liquor bottles sold in the US:

Warning: Objects viewed while inebriated may be less attractive tomorrow morning than they currently appear.

I’m just saying, it’s something that everyone should be aware of. Not that I had to worry about that during the wedding, no sir. I may have been drinking alright, but I was hanging out with my fraternity brothers that I hadn’t seen in a while. There was no trolling for bridesmaids for me. I was simply happy to see everyone again, especially some of the guys whom I hadn’t seen in a good two years. Man, where does the time go?

I have to say, everyone was happy to see me as well. I’m just the kind of guy that all the other guys want to be around. I think it has something to do with my lack of niceties around women. I have a very bad habit of saying things that make girls genuinely upset and reproachful. And you know what, I’m ok with that. I just find angry women amusing. It has the added side effect of making all the other guys around me look that much better by comparison. And guys like looking better by comparison.

All the old frat brothers seemed quite surprised that I had dressed up for the occasion. Now, I’m normally all for casual wear and comfortable clothing. That’s just my style. But I do like to dress up all fancy for certain events. I happen to think I look damned good in a suit, but then again, that’s just my opinion. Besides, it was a wedding; you’re supposed to look your best at weddings. So seeing me in nice charcoal pants, a starched shirt, tie, and a coat was apparently something unexpected. The green shirt and khaki pants ensemble that I wore practically every week to frat meetings back in college just wasn’t going to cut it for Josh and Monica’s big day, even a bachelor bum like me knows that.

The girls that I ran into at the wedding also noted that I looked rather nicely dressed for the evening. Although, they seemed to have a hard time accepting the fact that I had actually dressed myself in such button-up finery. The first three or four times I heard the comment, “I don’t believe it! There is no way you dressed yourself this morning!” I thought it was rather funny. I’d like to think I’m genuinely a good sport like that. But after the seventh or eighth time hearing the very same line from a female acquaintance, I started to get a little fed up with the whole act.

Though, I do have to admit, there have been times that I haven’t quite been up to code on my dress. Getting all the shirt buttons lined up properly while dressing is still an ongoing struggle. And I don’t even want to mention the incident where I tucked the collar down inside my shirt. It ended up not being the latest fashion trend as I had been led to believe. But this does not mean that I am incapable of dressing myself. I’m merely… a little slow. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

I was finally able to convince my female admirers (I’m going to call them that until I am scientifically proven otherwise) that I had managed to struggle into a suit and tie entirely of my own volition. I told them I used a diagram pinned up to my wall that showed step by step instructions on how to get everything on. They bought that. Apparently I’m incapable of buttoning my own shirt, but following directions, sure I can do that.

You know, come to think of it, that’s really not a bad idea. I’m just going to write that down on my list of ideas that I’ll eventually get rich off of. I’m thinking a 1, 2, 3 instruction guide, showing elaborate illustrations to help with donning formal wear. It’ll look just like the Lego instructional pamphlets that come with new Lego sets. I’m sure there are plenty of guys out there who could use some graphical insight to help fasten their ties. Let’s be honest here, wearing a clip on tie is a total fashion faux pas.

The wedding itself was lovely and the reception was delightful. From what I hear, I had a wonderful time. For the record, however, drinking three bottles of red wine all by yourself is not recommended, even if it is an open bar. But, being the trooper that I am, I took my booze (hey, wine is still booze) like a man, and kept it all down. I even managed to make it through the night without pissing off any women. Go me!

Just remember to always beware the tomorrow, as the morning light will most assuredly rise to kick you in the kiester. I was not feeling okay when I woke up the next morning, large quantities of alcohol will do that to you. At the same time, this warning applies to the happy couple as well. Oh, I’m sure they woke up Sunday morning just as thrilled as can be, and I am truly happy for the two of them. But they’re together now… forever.

I was in the church. I heard the pastor say it. “Until death do us part.” Those words sent a chill down my spine. Heck, it still gives me the willies today. One woman… one lover… one companion. One wife, until you die. Not my cup tea, sorry. But for those of you who do take the leap, those of you who do find comfort and solace in the arms of another and are bound to them for eternity, I wish you the best of luck. For there is nary a thing in this life more powerful than spending time with those you truly care for.

And to Josh and Monica: I wish you the greatest happiness and blessings for the rest of your years.

I Do

Who would have thought that two little words would fill me with such dread and antipathy? I mean, they’re just words, right? What can two meaningless words, comprised of only three letters even, possibly wrought to affect me? To be honest, I’m not entirely sure, but I’m still scared of them. Scared out of my commitment fearing mind.

Luckily I’ve been able to avoid that particular phrase all the way up to this point in my life. Many of my friends haven’t been as fortunate (is fortunate the right word there?). My friend Andy got married almost two years ago, Jeremy had already tied the knot by that point, Frank got married this past weekend, and Jim is getting hitched in December (or so he says, that boy is notorious for changing his plans at the last second). I swear my high school buddies are dropping like flies all around me. I’m worried that one day the marriage bug will eventually hit me.

I bring this up because my friend Frank was wed recently. As I previously mentioned, he’s the latest in a long line of high school chums that have bit the dust, so to speak. And seeing how Frank is such an awesome guy (and he really is), I made the trek all the way up to the Land of Mary just to attend the festivities. I just hope he knows the seriousness of dragging me across two states just to watch his bachelorhood get buried. I mean, taking the time out of my schedule to go a frat party 300 miles away is no big deal. But suffering in a car for six hours for the sole purpose of watching a dear friend consign to what I consider to be an inconceivable error? Frank better know how lucky he is to have such a committed friend like me.

There was an upside to the weekend though. Free booze. That’s right, say it with me now, “free booze.” Now there are two words that’ll put a smile on my face. It’s a few more letters than the earlier scriptural pairing, but I think it has a much warmer, more soothing feel to it. Coincidentally, the alcohol itself tends to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And I’m pretty sure everyone likes to feel warm and fuzzy. But, as I alluded to earlier, this was no frat party, this was a wedding. I had to be on my best behavior… or rather, what passes as my best behavior after five or six drinks in an unfamiliar local.

Luckily there was an even more important reason to imbibe this weekend besides the fact that it was a wedding and there was alcohol aplenty… and the fact that I pretty much drink whenever I can get the chance… and well, do I really need a reason to drink? Frank made sure to have in attendance on his wedding day one keg of locally brewed beer and three separate varieties of bottled home brew. Now, for those of you who don’t normally have much to do with the small cap beers, allow me to enlighten you. Local brews are beers brewed locally. I came up with that all by myself, if you can believe it.

Seriously though, local brews are good stuff. They’re usually restaurants or small breweries that distribute beer only within very regional confines. Some of my favorite beers are made in my home state of North Carolina and only circulated inside its boarders. What can I say? I enjoy helping out the local mom and pop enterprises. And it doesn’t hurt that the breweries around here make some damned fine libations.

But homebrews are a little bit different. If you can’t tell by the word choice there, they’re actually made in a person’s home and are generally not made for profit (I’m just Captain Obvious today, aren’t I?). Homebrewers like to experiment and come up with not only new flavorings in beer, but also to tweak the tastes of existing beers. I’ve only had the pleasure of sampling a few homebrews before, but with a little bit of ingenuity and the right ingredients, I know a dedicated homebrewer can make a pretty good beer. Unfortunately it can get expensive when you factor in the costs of bottles and caps and other beer storage needs.

Frank and some of his friends have been cooking up their own beer for a few years now, and I tasted one of their recipes before and found it quite to my liking. I was especially happy to see that all three homebrews present at the wedding were new to me. In attendance were a raspberry wheat ale, an Irish red, and a rather nice amber. I was determined to try them all since each one seemed intriguing in its own right. My findings are as follows (in order of decreasing awesomeness): The amber beer was very good, as both Frank and Danny (the brewers) had advertised, the Irish red was pleasantly flavorsome and enjoyable, but the raspberry wheat ale I found to be a bit too fruity for my tastes. As a general rule, fruity beer equals not good beer. Well, unless you’re a chick, chicks like fruity stuff.

So I have to say, Frank’s wedding turned out to be an enjoyable event all around. However, this didn’t stop me from attempting to do what I resolutely consider my hallowed responsibility in this life. The night before the wedding, as the rehearsal dinner was winding down, I took Frank to the side and gave him the same advice I try to give every man just before his wedding day: RUN! Run and don’t look back! You know, for some strange reason, people never seem to take my advice. I really don’t know why either.

To his credit, Frank didn’t run. Even when a good family friend who had known his grandfather for many long years gave him the same advice (including offering to foot the bill for a one person plane ticket to the Bahamas), Frank stayed the course. That boy must be in love or something (ever notice how “love” is a four lettered word? I’m just putting that out there). Though in his defense Rosa, his fiancé, seems like a very nice young lady. Fiancé? No, they’re married now, Rosa is his wife. Wow, wife (yet another four letter word, amazing how these things keep piling up, huh?), it’s going to take me some time before I get used to using that word. I still have a hard time remembering to refer to Laura as Andy’s wife, not his girlfriend, and they’ve been married for two years! Sometimes I think I’m not really one of the fastest Hotwheels in the boxed set, if you know what I mean.

So what have we learned today? We learned that it’s okay to get married as long as you brew your own beer for the wedding. We also learned that “love”, “wife”, “girl”, and “commitment” are all four letter words, carrying eerily similar connotations with all those other four lettered words that aren’t exactly conversationally polite (oh, and don’t even try to tell me that “commitment” isn’t a four letter word, you can count all you want, but I’ve spent the better part of my twenty-four year existence proving that one particular obtuse fact, so please, don’t challenge me on this). And finally, we learned that weddings are really just funerals for a man’s single existence and all that he once was. Furthermore, the death of his bachelorhood is the necessary reagent that opens up the possibility of a new beginning of marriage and couplehood. It’s the Circle of Life (hey, I’m pontificating here, it doesn’t happen very often, just go with it). I might also be wise to point out that I’ve learned all I know about life from Disney movies. Go figure.

What’s Love Got to Do with It

Ambition is a wonderful thing to have in life. Most people want to get a good job, work hard, get married, and raise a family. This is certainly a noble goal. It’s not exactly my goal, but then again, I’ve never been known to be noble. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t have ambition. As a matter of fact, I’ve been rather ambitious for most of my adult life. Whether or not my behavior classifies me as an adult is another thing entirely. The law says I’m an adult, and the law is just smart like that.

So, what is the great and wondrous goal that I have been chasing for so many years? No, it has nothing to do with hard work, self-reliance, or even winning the lottery. My lifelong goal is to marry a rich chick. I don’t want to have to work for my money, I want my incredibly attractive and very intelligent wife to work for my money. Meanwhile, I’ll stay at home and play Halo on Xbox Live. This is my dream, and one day, with a lot of hard work and perseverance, it might just come true.

Now I know a lot of you women out there would be outraged with a life plan who’s only two steps involve: marry a rich chick and play video games. But you really have to look past the shallow nature and selfishness of my goal. If you’re paying attention, and I’m sure you are, you’ll notice that I am, in fact, a pioneer in feminism. You should be proud of me, feminists aren’t people I usually associate myself with. But in this case, I really am in league with them. I don’t mind a wife who’s the bread winner and I’d be perfectly happy being a stay at home dad. This is a clear breach in traditional manly values.

Isn’t that what women want: a guy who is comfortable being in the background while the wife is obsessed with work and promotions? If this is what you want, then I’m the guy for you. I’m totally cool with the woman making all the money. And as an added bonus, I can do minor electrical and plumbing work and I can make cookies. How many stay at home dads can say that? If that doesn’t get the ladies’ juices flowing, I don’t know what will.

All joking aside, this is my dream in life. I want to marry an attractive girl who has a good job, and even better prospects for future earnings. In fact, I’m willing to be more lenient on the how attractive my prospective mate is when her projected future earnings are higher. I can do this on a very simple and very unbiased method. Simply discount the projected future earnings of the woman over the next ten years to the present value. Here’s the formula we’ll be using:

AI = AS [( 1 / (1 + .03)^10 )/(.03)]

AI = Attractiveness Index
AS = Average Yearly Salary

In this formula, the 10 represents the number of years my prospective wife will be making her average salary. Each .03 represents an estimated 3% increase in the cost of living year over year. All I have to do is input the estimated average yearly salary for the woman in the “AS” spot and I can come up with a usable number. For every increase of 800,000 in the Attractiveness Index, I’ll be willing to lower my future spouse’s beauty by one point on the classic ten point model (to be furthermore referred to as the Classic Index, or CI). I think we’re all accustomed to the Classic Index with a perfect ten being the hottest girl you’ve ever seen and a lowly one being a woman who looks like the unholy offspring of Jabba the Hut and an abominable snowman.

Now we all know that money isn’t everything. Looks are important too. But we’ve already addressed both of those. Some of you may be wondering how the woman’s personality fits into all of this. Well, let me just assuage your fears: it doesn’t. Let’s be honest with ourselves here, personality is not important. Heck, it’s never been important. When you hear someone say “That girl has a great personality,” what does that mean to you? It means she is neither rich nor physically attractive.

What would you rather have: a spouse who has a wonderful personality, or one that is rich or incredibly gorgeous? May I remind you for just one second that supermodels are both rich and insanely hot? So which is it? The supermodels in bikinis or the girls who can make you smile and laugh? Personally, I think laughing is overrated. Laughs come and go but money, spendola (as it is called in certain European circles) lasts forever.

You don’t believe me about money lasting forever? Just ask your local jeweler. When you go into the store to buy an engagement ring for you fiancé with the superb personality, he’ll tell you that you can make three months salary last forever by buying her a rather small, shiny rock. Oh sure, that shiny rock will be surrounded by gold, which has existential value, but most of your hard-earned cash will be going towards that shiny pebble. I know this is true because a commercial on TV said so, and commercials don’t lie, it’s against the law.

Like I said, marrying for love or trust or even mutual respect is totally overrated. Let’s look at the figures, approximately 40% or more of married American couples will get divorced. And after your inevitable divorce (hey you can’t argue with statistics), what are you left with? The laughs, the trust, the respect, it’s all gone. This is why I am using the relatively short span of ten years for my marriage when discounting a perspective wife’s future earnings. I honestly don’t think that my money making scheme would ever end in divorce, but I’m just going to play it safe anyway. Did I say money making scheme? I meant marriage, my wonderfully happy and splendidly fruitful marriage.

I would like to point out that the formula that I gave you earlier can also be used when evaluating potential investments. The reason I’m using it as a scale for finding a suitable wife is merely coincidental. But hey, who would have thought that I’d actually give you something scholarly in my writing? I’m not only entertaining and informative, but also educational too.

I should be rewarded for providing you with such unparallel educational content. Specifically, I should be rewarded with money. Thank you notes are nice and all, but they waste the life of a tree and add to our already overburdened waste disposal systems. Money, on the other hand, is forever. So prevent over logging and send me some cold hard cash (and no, money is not made of paper; it is created from a unique blend of cloth and fabrics, so you won’t be hurting the forests by sending me money, thank you).

Going to the Chapel… Going to Get Married...

When is a person supposed to fall in love and get married? After high school? After college? Before the age of 27? I ask this question mainly because everyone I know is getting married. And I mean everyone. In fact two of my friends from high school are both planning on getting married May 2007. I just can’t understand why everyone has to give up their lives this way.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to marriage as an institution. I’m opposed to never seeing my friends again. No more late nights playing video games, no more watching playoff hockey together, and certainly no more trolling around bars trying to find women… women that we might one day fall in love with and end up marrying. But when guys get married, something changes. Usually it has something to do with the overly large ball and chain their wives mount on each ankle.

I wish the ball and chain was the only problem. Unfortunately, there’s more. When a guy gets married, his vocabulary changes. Gone are words like: beer, Halo, touchdown, and Schwarzenegger. They are replaced with words like duvet cover, Cher, and antiquing. Just the sound of those words is enough to make any man cringe. The fundamental change a married man goes through pierces deep into his soul. The married man no long cares about his single friends or his previous pursuits of living life to its fullest. Instead, he worries about job security, life insurance and yard work. That is just seriously BORING!

I’m not saying this because I’m jealous of my friends or because I’m selfish and don’t want to lose them. No, I’m saying this because I care. I’m really worried about people who get married. Mainly, I’m worried about divorce. The latest divorce statistics show that roughly 43% of people who enter into matrimony get divorced. This means that of the five friends of mine that are married or getting married, two will get divorced. This is a very solemn fact indeed. I have to do something.

This is why I’m starting up a betting pool. All of us single guys are going to put money together and bet on who we think will be the two to get divorced. The way I see it, if you get one person right, you get a small amount of money, but if you get both divorcees right, you get a big pile of cash. This brings up an interesting ethical question. Do you stay away from betting on the guy with kids, because statistically he’s less likely to get divorced, or do you put your money on him because the smaller odds means more money comes your way if he does divorce? Unfortunately I don’t have an answer for that. Betting can be tricky.

But I do care about the divorcees, they are my friends after all. As the legal counsel, I advise every guy I know to cross their fingers when they say their vows. You know the: “to have and to hold… for richer or poorer… till death do us part.” That stuff. That way, when the divorce does come (and go ahead and flip a coin, because that’s about your chances of getting a divorce) the wife cannot sue the guy for breaking his vows. I mean, the vows constitute an orally binding contract. And if you break said contract, you could owe tons of money to your ex-wife (hint: it’s called alimony). But by keeping your fingers crossed, you’re signifying that you really aren’t agreeing to the contract, and therefore cannot be held responsible for your actions.

I think I should take the time out here to tell you that I am NOT licensed to practice law in any state in the United States or any other country in the world for that matter. So you may just want to get a prenuptial agreement, just to be safe.

Remember, I write this because I care. We really need to find what’s wrong with America that is causing so many divorces. Personally, I blame the IRS. Wait, stay with me here. Have you tried filling out a Form 1040? You have to figure out if you’re filing as a single, married filing jointly, married filing separately, dependent, or head of household. Seems simple enough, right? Well apparently not. And if it’s hard for me, just imagine how hard it is for married couples. Let me explain:

I’m single and by default that means I’m the head of my household. So I mark boxes 1 and 5. Then the IRS tells me that I can only choose one box. I would like to choose the one choice that saves me the most money, but I have a feeling the IRS wants me to mark the “single” box because they would like to keep my money for themselves. I can respect that. I happen to have a very strong attachment to my money. It’s nice to know that the IRS is just as dedicated to my money as I am.

But we have to put a stop to them, they’re ruining the married life of America. And I base this solely on the fact that I hate paying taxes. And since I’m pretty sure you hate paying taxes too, I’m certain you’ll get on board with me. I know there is no “logical” or “reasonable” correlation between divorces and taxes. But I think we can all agree that divorces are bad… and taxes are bad. And if they’re both bad, there has to be something connecting them. I don’t know what the connection is and I don’t want to speculate to its exact nature. Now that would be irresponsible.I think we should petition the government to abolish taxes for married people.

I think, with a reasonable amount of certainty, that it would cause people to stay married much, much longer. I think the reasons are obvious. If married people didn’t have to pay taxes, then there would be no reason for husband and wife to hate each other. Thus they would live long, healthy, fruitful lives together. Remember, I’m saying this because I care. I care about our country, I care about married couples everywhere, and I care about my friends who strapped to heavy cast-iron blocks that permanently restrict their movement.

So, what have we learned today? First, that married men are by definition: boring. Second, that the IRS is to blame for every single divorce in America, and the only way to curtail divorce is to eliminate taxes for married couples. Lastly, and most importantly, the word “antiquing” should be removed from the English language permanently.