• » Name: Meka Soul
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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

What’s Wrong With Getting Married?

This post can go under “Mek Dot Soul’s Insomniac Chronicles,” as I’ve probably written this shit while most you gumshoes were doing more meaningful shit with your lives, like sleeping. On a totally unrelated note, I just caught Robert Sylvester’s “Hair Braider” for the first time. He must be stopped. Immediately.

Anyways, in less than 2 months two of my closest friends are getting married, and I’ve been asked to participate in the ceremony. Not to be the thunderstorm that could potentially ruin the sunshine, but honestly I’ve struggled to maintain a somewhat content demeanor about the whole thing thanks in part to recent events that’s left me more aggy at the world than usual.

Not to mention my stimulus check still hasn’t arrived, and I’m thinking that the bitchassness mechanics of H&R Block may be to blame. Fuck H&R Block.

Now, the shitty thing about this is that I one day would like to be wifed down as well. Real talk is that I’ve always thought nobody’s cipher is complete until they actually have their soul (sole?) mate around their arm, but given my current “talk to my money” attitude I honestly don’t see that going down for myself any time soon.

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who has second thoughts on marriage though. With a success rate of barely 50 percent, on top of the fact that I don’t think today’s society is built for it at all right now, it’s easy to see why people are settling for baby’s parents, casual flings or – for all you anal plunderers out there – butt buddies instead.

In addition to that ridiculously low rate, there’s also the fact that men and women can’t keep their respective genitalia to themselves. Let’s not front, people: men and women alike are more often than not looking for someone to stretch out their middles than a fiancé nowadays. Shit, I wanted to have a wife by the time I bounced out of college. Then I found out that one of the more limber (and bisexual, to boot) cheerleaders for my university’s crapathetic basketball team wanted to take a meeting by me.

That’s spelled m-e-A-t-i-n-g. But now I’m saying too much.

It certainly doesn’t help that the supposed sacred virtues of marriage are marred by the likes of Tila Tequila bouncing around television sets and getting pounded by random-ass meatwads and lipstick dykes all under the bullshit premise of love, giving me pink eye in the process. Had I known that finding “true love” consisted of making as ass out of myself on Clear Channel- and Viacom-owned networks, I probably would have stopped trying to woo women with my awesome comic book collection a long time ago. By the way ladies, I have a limited-edition Captain America joint which probably is worth more than that Sherpa’s hair sewn into your scalp, so you know I’m no good like that.

Long story short, I don’t think that marriage is for everyone; if I can’t even fathom having a roommate, the fluck’s chance do I have waking up next to someone for the rest of my life?

*Thinks about it*

I’m lying. I can think of at least two women I could wake up next to. Hell, even all together. Now that would be my Make A Wish request.

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