Marriage to a Man or to an Idea?

 

 

I made two new friends this fall.  Both of whom are beautiful, kind, funny, stylish, and smart.  Months after we got to be friends I met each of their husbands.  On both occasions my first thought was, “She’s married to him?”  “Him” being an average sort; not nearly good enough for my new friend, from what I could see.  After the initial surprise passed, both times, I chuckled to myself.

 

Married women marry men.  Mere men.

 

Perpetually single women are married to fancies and fantasies:

a)      “I can’t help that I intimidate a lot of men,” and/or

b)      “The best apples are at the top of the tree and a man has to work hard to get to them, but most men just accept the lesser fruit that’s within easy reach,” and/or

c)      “I refuse to settle.  I’d rather be alone,” and/or

d)      “I want my husband to be a 6’5”, handsome, athletic, brilliant, pediatric orthopedic surgeon, who worships God with his eyes closed and tears streaming down his face as he sings songs he wrote himself while playing the keyboards.”

 

(OK, maybe that last one was just my own personal fantasy).