Crossover
"CATHY'S MARRIAGE MAY CAUSE PROZAC SHORTAGE"
Copyright © 2005, Renee' Barnes
I heard the news this morning as I drank my first cup of coffee. I almost choked. Cathy and Irving have gotten married.
Cathy is the popular funnies cartoon character created by Cathy Guisewite. Her story lines have consistently contained the trials and tribulations of a thirty-something woman unsuccessfully looking for love while trying to squeeze into a smaller dress size.
Not all of Cathy's readers are single women. I didn't find her until my oldest son had caused me to pull out tufts of my own hair.
Sitting with a cup of tea and reading the funnies became my calm down ritual during my son's time outs. I haven't read her strip in years, but at the time she was a Godsend. Whether my little ball of energy had thrown the cat out the window, broken my favorite statuary, flushed a bowlful of tampons, painted his brothers with shoe polish or fed the dog the meat I had thawing in the sink, Cathy came to the rescue every time.
I think I'll be a regular reader again, now that she will be seeing life from this side of the alter, but some will take the news hard.
I can almost hear the collective groan of my unmarried friends. I expect there will be much wine and cheesecake shared between spinsters as they console one another this week. Yes, there will probably be a rush on Prozac and Xanax and the offices of counselors will be filled with weeping wanna-weds for weeks to come.
Lord knows I am as pleased as punch with my married life, but I wonder if those poor dear single souls realize that there are pros and cons to marriage just like everything else.
Their veil-colored glasses lead them to pine over the fact that a married woman has a warm sleeping partner every night. Removing the veil reveals the blanket-thieving fart machines with whom most wives are in bed.
Marriage madness causes fantasies of romantic candle lit dinners for two. True marriage is more like sitting on the couch, watching football over a meal of beanie weenies and beer.
When the real "it" hits the fan, wanna-be wishes for bundles of joy are quickly turned into nightmares of colic, feedings at three in the morning and enough diapers to change for a lifetime. And don't even get me started on raising a teen. I thought I'd be the cool Mom who was her children's best friend, too. I'll spare you the truth, it's far too graphic to go into here anyway.
I must admit that there is one marital benefit, which seems to have no downside. My husband is always happy to open the pickle jar for me when I can't manage it myself, but then again, the pickle is usually for him.