“Don’t get married”.
Now, I’m happily married myself and I wouldn’t want it any other way so I’m mostly just having fun when I say the three magic words. But there is a huge commitment to make and it mostly involves giving up the things you love for the sake of marital bliss. Those that aren’t married have no bloody idea how much work goes into keeping this partnership strong except when they hear married guys like me bitch about our problems.
And I like to bitch. And when I do, I always end the bitching by saying with a wink:
“Don’t get married”
Compromises have to be made, whether it’s giving up some sports, coming home a bit earlier than usual when at work or out with your buddies or just spending more of your time doing stupid things like shopping or even looking for linens.
Harry and Cal would bust on me all the time with that last remark but funny enough, even in marriage, I’m still playing more golf than those fools. So I consider myself quite fortunate.
Now, the tables have turned. We’re welcoming another to the dark side and that someone is Harry himself, who got engaged to his lovely girlfriend Sarah on the weekend.
Poor Harris has no idea how things are going to change. Golf? Haha. I expect him to play about half as many times in ’09 as he did in ’08. I’m going to predict 40 rounds for fun…he played about 65 times in ’08 so we’ll see how close I am at the end of this year.
Flag football? Squash? Rec Baseball leagues? Dream on pal, it’s time to start cutting down on that stuff. Pick one or two…maybe!
How about those little three day weekends to go see Ben Harper? Not anymore buddy, at least not without your wife-to-be. Which is fine but now you’re paying for two people, not one, and you’ll be having to cut back on that stuff too. Frivolous! Remember, you need to have linens for the house!
And last and definitely not least…NFL Football. And Fantasy Football.
Sundays during the NFL season are Holy Days for Harris and not because he’s going to synagogue. Harry’s church is the sofa in the middle of his living room, the one with all the eaten-up cushions, courtesy of his lovable dog Harper. Harry lies down and prays that his twelve fantasy teams come through with victories every week, flipping between every game on the schedule for full effect.
I hear he doesn’t even get up to go to the washroom, instead wearing an adult diaper for the day to ensure there are no breaks in the action.
Do you seriously think you’ll be able to keep up that charade? Do you REALLY think you can get away with telling your wife that you can’t do anything all day Sunday during the NFL season?
If so, can I have one of what you’re drinking?
And all of those fantasy leagues? Haha. No chance! Cut those leagues in half, mister! G-note? A thing of the past!
Now, imagine if you guys get pregnant in the first year! Oh, the hilarity! Prenatal classes, doing research on being a parent, etc…your time is becoming even more scarce!
Now, all that said, I feel partially responsible for this development. Ok, check that. Fully responsible, as it was my wife and I who set these two lovebirds up in the first place.
So I’ll be there for you buddy. When you want to complain about not having the time to watch Megatron on the 0-12 Lions next year, a guy you have in five of your pools, because you have to go to a Trivial Pursuit party at another married couple’s house, I’ll be the shoulder you can cry on.
When that ClubLink invite comes from Preston and you have to turn it down because you’re already booked to go look for bathroom fixtures with your wife, again, I’m there for you.
Soon enough, Harry and I will form our own chorus on the off-chance we get to play golf together in the future. There, playing with Cal, the last single guy on the planet, we’ll repeat the three magic words in perfect harmony…
“Don’t get married”
All kidding aside, I’m thrilled for Harris and Sarah. They are perfectly matched and both Jacky and myself couldn’t be happier! Mozel tov!