I Might Get Married. I Might Buy a Cow.

I might get married this year.

But don’t go planning the Twitter bachelorette party just yet, it’s still a pretty big might. I’ve been engaged for nearly nine years, but for the first time in that span, me and the Dude I Share A Bathroom With are actually talking about making it official.

When people find out that me and DISABW have been doing the marriage tango for as long as we have, they usually jump to the conclusion that something is wrong with our relationship, that we are commitment-phobes waiting to throw in the towel at the first sign of trouble. Those people are usually on their third marriage. They’re also assholes.

Let me clear some things up, I’m not against the institution of marriage. It seems cool enough—tax breaks, monogram towels, the chicken dance. I’m not mad at it. In fact, I’m extremely vocal about my support of marriage equality. I think everyone is entitled to legally bind themselves to someone forever (except for that creepy guy with like seven wives, he should be uninvited to the marriage party), but there’s always been a part of me that’s a little uneasy with the whole “until death do us part” thing.

Death? Fuck, that’s pretty permanent. What if he starts doing meth, can I leave then? Or worse, starts voting Republican, can I throw up the deuces without giving him half of my shit? 

I think the main problem is that I’ve always assumed people are untrustworthy, probably because my parents used to do a ton of smack when I was a kid—but I’m working on that with a trained therapist and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. But that fear of permanence is still there, and it’s just something I have to get over in my own time. 

But besides the fact that marriage is super weird and scary, can we can talk about the real problem? White washes me out, y’all. I tend to look more radiant in a jewel tone. And I don't think people who talk about dicks on the internet can even legally buy a white wedding dress. It's one of those old laws like not being able to own more than six dildos in Texas.

Plus weddings are stupid expensive. I don’t want to feed my second cousin steak because I tied myself to one penis until the end of time. How is that fair? Shouldn’t we at least go dutch for my random sex funeral, BYOB, something?! Also, I don’t like wedding food. I like burritos. I will only get married if we can all eat cheap, questionable Mexican food afterwards, deal? 

More issues: I like my last name—Allison Wilson is not happening. I don’t want people to immediately start asking when I’m getting knocked up. I’m not even sure I like kids. I want to still be able to dance to the song Single Ladies. I have no need for two waffle makers, can’t I just register for a new ukulele? Most of my family are raging alcoholics and getting them together with an open bar is going to end with me crying on COPS. 

But with this ever-growing list of marriage drawbacks freaking me out on the regular, I can’t stop myself from watching shows like Say Yes to the Dress, mainly because I enjoy saying things like “that seems reasonable” to a $10,000 dress, while my boyfriend silently has an anxiety attack next to me, but also because all the cons don’t quite measure up to the one big pro. 

I kinda want to marry him. 

LAME, I know. But even so, I can’t help but think it would be nice to make the big commitment with this man who has put up with me for the last decade. So maybe this will be the year after all, and I'll become an honest woman and we can buy a cow or some milk or something. 

Cows are pretty cute. I wonder if I can register for one of them? A cow, a ukulele, six dildos, and zero waffle makers.

God, I'm going to be a great wife.