Sunday, November 25, 2007

But Polygamy would have been so much fun...

A long time ago in a land far away, my friend, also known as “glitters” and I made a pact. We had discussed what would happen if we didn’t meet someone to marry. Neither of us liked the idea of living alone so we decided that when we turned 40 (because when you’re in high school 40 is practically dead) if we hadn’t married, we would “marry” each other, buy a house, and live together. We spent the summers she was home from college running around together having a good time. People often thought that Glitters and I were sisters, because we look alike, dark hair, freckles, etc. The best “sister” incident was when we were approached by the manager of “The Night Before,” who apparently thought adding sister act to the club’s repertoire would be good for business.

While Glitters was off at school, I met this guy. 10 months later, we were married, and getting ready to move to Rhode Island. Glitters, graduated from college, was getting ready to head to Australia for her next stage of schooling, but wanted to meet some friends on the east cost before taking off for the land down-under. Because when you move for the military, they don’t move your vehicles for you, my husband and I had to drive separately Glitters came along for the ride, so I wouldn’t go crazy in the car all that way by myself.

While on this trip, our pact came up. I had ruined it for poor Glitters, who was now destined to live alone when she got old turned 40. My husband, overheard our conversation, and being the generous man that he is, offered to become a polygamist when Glitters got old turned 40 if she hadn’t found a mate. (Ha-ha, no pun intended.) That would allow her to marry into our family, so that I could stay married to my husband, and honor the pact I’d made with her. For the week that she stayed with us, he had a good time pretending to be married to two women.

He had such a good time pretending, that for the past five years, he has counted down to the day that he would get to marry Glitters. At least once a year, he’d bring up how many years he had left “Only 14 more years until I marry Glitters.” I had to break some sad news to him the other day. We got a wedding invitation from Glitters and her fiancé. Glitters is getting married; so my husband doesn’t get to be married to two women. I’m sure he would have regretted that decision eventually anyway. After all, once you’ve been married to one woman for a few years, you learn one is plenty, especially when she has a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day and threatens to move to Australia.

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