I used to be a marrier. When I was young I always assumed that I would one day get married, though my thoughts were dominated rather by the more immediate challenge of finding myself a girlfriend.
I used to be quite an agreeable chap. I once went on holidays with a girl for two weeks and found that I needed a day off doing my own thing in order to recharge. These days I need that after two hours.
I ended up cohabiting with that girl for a while. It was great. I enjoyed hanging out with her and at first the convenience of sleeping right next to each other every night led to a little romantic renaissance. After that dried up I found it hard to locate a private place for a wank.
Thank Christ for the shower.
These days I cannot coexist in close proximity to another human being for more than a day. I have known enough women to see them as they see each other. I have gained the confidence to know that if a relationship does not work out, I can easily find another. I am also old enough to be quite content without dating for extended periods of time.
I refuse to listen to Shania Twain for even a moment and I like to play the same Bengali devotional song over and over on a loop for hours on end. I find it meditative.
I have a pair of slippers just for wearing in the bathroom, I shit with the door open, I cook the same meal three days in a row and I put away the big cutlery wherever the bloody hell I like. In summer around home I constantly wear the same, old pair of boxer shorts whose elastic has gone, held up with a peg, because I don’t like tight things around my tummy.
I fart loudly and enthusiastically, often followed by a fist pump and a manly roar of “Yeah!” I wash the sheets once every two weeks. I go to bed at 9:30pm and wake at 4:30am. I do not watch television. I hate almost every film. I sometimes get exuberant i.e. after I finish a big job and I dance around for ten minutes or so to get it out of my system. I am a poor dancer.
I am utterly intolerant of other people’s foibles. I cannot stand whining, sighing, clanging noises while washing the dishes, opinions, questions, playing with phones, long black hairs in the shower drain, heating or cooling. Fans are okay.
Many of the women I now date are of the age where they want to marry someone – anyone! A man with a pulse and a job is what they’re after. I have both but the ladies are too late. If they’d been so inclined when I was 27 and they were 21, they’d have been a chance.
A word to the wise: marry men before they’re old and grumpy and have learned the bliss of solitude.