I can't help being somewhat cynical at weddings, as I mentally calculate what year the happy couple is most likely to split. Will it be the three year well-that-was-a-colossal-mistake approach? The twelve year Christ,-you're-boring-me? Or maybe, just maybe if they're very lucky and have a sound foundation of love and respect, maybe the couple can make it all the way to their 40th before separating, ala Al & Tipper. I am a blast to have at weddings, oh yes I am.
David and I had originally planned to not marry even after we had a child, mostly because we liked striking a blow at the institution of family, helping crumble the underpinnings of society, and unraveling the very fabric of our civilization. It's not often you can strike such a blow for anarchy by not doing something.
Finances got kind of complicated, though, and I decided things would be easier if we got married. Here's how the conversation went:
Me: "There's certain documentation we need, like birth certificates, in order to get married. I'm going to work on getting those together unless you tell me not to." [Beat] "Consider that a proposal."
David: [Long pause. Deep breath. And yet another pause.] "I guess I can't think of any good reason why we shouldn't."
Me: "And I consider that an acceptance!"
And thusly we were hitched.