Marriage, Slavery, Running Chain Saws, and Me

"Marriage is slavery."  

Someone told me that yesterday.  Or maybe it was "Marriage is like slavery" or he was suggesting that "Marriage Slavery" would be an excellent name for a rock band.  In any case it was an outstanding comment about a sense that came over him one day, unbidden.  He had been discussing with another divorced guy the possibility that he might one day again marry.  Now that his kids were gone he admitted to being increasingly open to the idea, only to be told: "No, I don't think so.  I don't see it happening."  That was an even more outstanding comment.  He was bested in the commenting department, with prejudice.

This was all tongue-in-cheek, humorous banter between life-long friends that was mostly funny but had an uncomfortable grain of truth in it.  Sort of like when I say that I never think about anyone else because I'm too busy thinking about myself.  It's a joke but it's truthey.  I think a great deal about other people but it pales in comparison to the time I spend reflecting on my own circumstances.

To the suggestion that I stop doing this I invariably reply: "But I'm so fucking interesting!"  Who would I think about?  You?  Please.  It's me or I'm taking a nap.

Today a young guy at the meeting showed me this huge, long, gnarled scar, running from his hip all the way up to his armpit.  That's a long way and it wasn't a thin white scar, either - it looked like someone took a machete to his torso.  It was an angry, aggressive scar.  It spoke of big violence

"Apparently it's not a good idea to climb up into a tree with a running chain saw when you're on heroin," he said, with very little irony.

OK, I think that tops the marriage is slavery meme.  Gotta love this Program.