006. Antisthenes Corollaries - Published in Neo Genesis Daily.
I've yet to meet, not a man who genuinely and sincerely wants to get married - I know well that's a fantasy of the perverse female mind and that us men always get married under the weight of a terrible and potentially lethal threat - but merely a man that enjoys partaking in a wedding celebration.
Even those who seem to willingly participate in the mediocre, mind-numbing games that sprout when "the party's getting rowdy", even those who seem to actually be happy in these shows of infamy, they've confessed to me, manly tears streaming down their cheeks, that they honestly hate weddings, but that they're truly afraid of the dictatorial monster they mistakenly married themselves.
Here it's prudent to say, that either simply for hormonal reasons - or simply because they're evil, evil forces of wretched evil - women not only love to get married, but they also get excited like dogs prior neutering at the prospect of attending someone else's wedding. They haven't finished reading the invitation, when they're already shouting their ancestral war cry: "What should I wear?"
All this is pure, premeditated malice. They know their husband, boyfriend or brainwashed slave in turn will not want to go. That the man will make use of every trick, ruse, ploy and gimmick to avoid attending, will invoke the silliest excuses and even will, pushed against the hard truth of desperation, call forth that authority that's been nonexistent for decades now. He'll even try to be an utter ingrate, cross his arms, glare and bellow: We're not going to the wedding of your cousin Martina and that's the end of it.
You know what? Don't even try it.
The woman will listen to you, looking up with fast and dizzying blinking, she'll say "awwwwright" with a soft, strangled voice and she'll slink away to the bathroom to cry in silence. Not, of course, without making sure first that the bathroom's door is open and thus her heart-breaking sobs may be heard all the way to Abyss. This can start around six or seven in the evening, and go on indefinitely. If around eleven the utterly contemptible moron (you) hasn't reacted favorably, hasn't felt his heart breaking at the sound of his tender half squealing like a piglet, the tender half decides to strengthen the offensive. She'll walk out of the bathroom, go fetch a hideous box she insists on calling necessity bag - she swears up and down she can't live without it - and sobbing noisily proceed to pack up her jewelry and bare essentials.
Normally, even the most stone-faced husband reaches breaking point with this.
"What now?"
"Nothing. (Melodramatic pause for nocturnal sobbing) I think our love is ending. Slurp! (onomatopoeia of sucking up mucus)"
"What! What's wrong?"
"Slurp! You know me and cousin Martina, we're tight as sisters."
"But you never talk about her and she lives in Terra, bordering on Abyss!"
"Women, ogggh (choked pain) know how to love in silence, and since I've never asked you for anything (sodden lie), I thought (another sodden lie) that we could stay with her on her happiest day."
My dearest, pitiful friend. If things have gotten to this point? Stop being stubborn and go find a suit and a tie. It's the point of no return. You will go to that wedding. Don't even try to make additional drama. I'm warning you: your wallet will suffer.
--- Superbi Squalo writes a weekly column, Antisthenes Corollaries, for Neo Genesis Daily, as well as contributing with editorial work. Commentary on the column and further discussion boards can be found at his own blog.
ooc: asadljghasghlasjhgaj posted in the wrong place, OTL
Even those who seem to willingly participate in the mediocre, mind-numbing games that sprout when "the party's getting rowdy", even those who seem to actually be happy in these shows of infamy, they've confessed to me, manly tears streaming down their cheeks, that they honestly hate weddings, but that they're truly afraid of the dictatorial monster they mistakenly married themselves.
Here it's prudent to say, that either simply for hormonal reasons - or simply because they're evil, evil forces of wretched evil - women not only love to get married, but they also get excited like dogs prior neutering at the prospect of attending someone else's wedding. They haven't finished reading the invitation, when they're already shouting their ancestral war cry: "What should I wear?"
All this is pure, premeditated malice. They know their husband, boyfriend or brainwashed slave in turn will not want to go. That the man will make use of every trick, ruse, ploy and gimmick to avoid attending, will invoke the silliest excuses and even will, pushed against the hard truth of desperation, call forth that authority that's been nonexistent for decades now. He'll even try to be an utter ingrate, cross his arms, glare and bellow: We're not going to the wedding of your cousin Martina and that's the end of it.
You know what? Don't even try it.
The woman will listen to you, looking up with fast and dizzying blinking, she'll say "awwwwright" with a soft, strangled voice and she'll slink away to the bathroom to cry in silence. Not, of course, without making sure first that the bathroom's door is open and thus her heart-breaking sobs may be heard all the way to Abyss. This can start around six or seven in the evening, and go on indefinitely. If around eleven the utterly contemptible moron (you) hasn't reacted favorably, hasn't felt his heart breaking at the sound of his tender half squealing like a piglet, the tender half decides to strengthen the offensive. She'll walk out of the bathroom, go fetch a hideous box she insists on calling necessity bag - she swears up and down she can't live without it - and sobbing noisily proceed to pack up her jewelry and bare essentials.
Normally, even the most stone-faced husband reaches breaking point with this.
"What now?"
"Nothing. (Melodramatic pause for nocturnal sobbing) I think our love is ending. Slurp! (onomatopoeia of sucking up mucus)"
"What! What's wrong?"
"Slurp! You know me and cousin Martina, we're tight as sisters."
"But you never talk about her and she lives in Terra, bordering on Abyss!"
"Women, ogggh (choked pain) know how to love in silence, and since I've never asked you for anything (sodden lie), I thought (another sodden lie) that we could stay with her on her happiest day."
My dearest, pitiful friend. If things have gotten to this point? Stop being stubborn and go find a suit and a tie. It's the point of no return. You will go to that wedding. Don't even try to make additional drama. I'm warning you: your wallet will suffer.
--- Superbi Squalo writes a weekly column, Antisthenes Corollaries, for Neo Genesis Daily, as well as contributing with editorial work. Commentary on the column and further discussion boards can be found at his own blog.
ooc: asadljghasghlasjhgaj posted in the wrong place, OTL