The Difficult Thing
...about marriage is:Getting used to responding to references about "marriage", "the wife", "married life", etc without wrapping it in the safe, chocolate scented, foil wrapper of sarcasm.
Getting used to the fact that your hunting days are over. While your tail may raise and your hair may stand on end when you see that hot, young girl in tight jeans, ...you are chained to a stake in the ground in your own back yard. "You're no tiger, meow meow meow" (extra points if you know where that came from)
All your nice rough edges get sanded down.
Dark, brilliant, alcohol-fueled heartbreak songs lose their impact. How can you really "feel" the bite of heartache when your loved one is holding your hand smiling at you? How???
When you join with another you DO lose a little bit of yourself. Say goodbye to that part. You had some good times, but things change, ...bars close and re-open as boutiques, bands break up and form depressingly inferior side-bands, fair balls land foul, all your male friends grow pot bellies, all the female friends start to get a paunch.
You wish you could be upset by it all. Because in your former life it is the adversity and heartbreak and uncertainty that fueled you, gave you a purpose for living and fighting and getting up from bed the morning after all your dreams and emotions went crashing through the floor.
Yes, this is all difficult. Difficult in a new way. Unfamiliar terrain. No matter how much of a dork you already were, getting married means hopping on that rocket train to squaresville (or just deeper into squaresville proper). Since I started out on the near southwest side of squaresville, I guess I'm headed for the Mayor's office.
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