Husband Material

Preface

I am cursed.

Okay, maybe that is a tad dramatic. But in there is a ring of truth to the statement. I am cursed. Not in the traditional sense. No evil enchantress has cast a spell on me to doom me for all eternity. Nor did I stumble across any relics associated with black magic. I am simply cursed due to the fact that I was raised listening to ministry messages about marriage.

Huh? What does that even mean? I'm sorry. I sometimes forget that not everyone was raised using the same lingo as me. See, I was raised in a Christian family. Which means every Sunday was dedicated to a Remembrance Service and a Gospel Meeting, every Wednesday was devoted to Bible Study, and about 36/52 weekends of the year were deemed worthy of attending one bible conference or another. For this reason, I've seen hundreds of preachers get up behind the pulpit. There have been bible thumpers, the droning intellectuals, fire and brimstone ramblers, and the soft spoken geezers: of whom you make bets with your siblings at what point in the sermon they're going to dissolve into a coughing fit. There have also been preachers who have prepared messages that actually touch the soul and inspire you to be a better individual. I have heard multiple messages on baptism, spiritual gifts, and the armour of God. But, no matter the preacher, no matter the conference, at one point or another, they have spoken on the subject of marriage.

Since my infancy, I have been treated to different facets of advice on marriage. I've heard the line "you're either single or married, there is no in between" a million times before. I've been instructed on the best ways to catch and keep a husband. At the age of six I was taking notes on how to get through a rough patch in your marriage, and by the age of twelve I was writing down bullet points on what my role as a wife would be. As I got older, and was finally allowed to start attending Youth Conferences, and at that point they began the messages on dating, or rather in Christian circles, "courting". I never once had the intention of getting a boyfriend; no, I was on the hunt for a husband.

Now, the idea of a committed, long-term relationship is fine. It's actually a fantastic goal. But not when you're a kid. At thirteen, I should have been deciding whether the boy in front of me was cute, not whether or not he could support me through retirement. I would spend my days creating scenarios in my head of what our house would look like, what we would name our kids: even boring stuff like going through bills together.

Most little girls plan out their weddings: they have their details all scoped out, from the material of the dress to the cake topper. I was never even obsessed with the idea of the actual wedding though. It was always the actual marriage. Would he snore? Would his mother bug the crap out of me? Would we make it to our 60th anniversary? I can never have a relationship without seeing the potential strings that might be attached. Potential strings with which we might one day tie the knot. And that, my friends, is why I am cursed.