Theory.

I’ve been said to be a bit morbid.

I somehow managed to insert in the fact that I was going to kill myself in a conversation about a patient. This resulted in all said members participating in the conversation to stop and pause. Then Lil Social Worker exclaimed, “What a conversation stopper, Poet!”

I just smiled.

In a separate conversation from the one above, Annoying Flatmate was asking me my views on marriage. And I asked him back, “What’s the point of marriage?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

That’s my point exactly.

Apparently, marriage has become something we don’t even think about nowadays. Its something that happens. Or not. And even if it happens, it happens because of the fact that it is social conformity that we decide to get married. Or not. Or maybe it has religious connotations that you get married. Because a Superior Being tells you so. That if you don’t get married under said Superior Being’s approval, boy, you’re in Biiig trouble. Or else, its under someone else’s approval that you’re searching for. Parents? Grandparents? Parents in law?

I asked him again, “Why do you want to get married?”

He mentioned something about it being nice to have a wife.

Now this is the man who once mentioned that he needed a wife to cook for him. So he’s basically saying he needs a chef.

I put forward this point.

“Look, if you want to get married because of the fact that you need someone to cook for you, hire a chef. With your salary, you can definitely afford it.”

“If you’re wanting sex, you don’t even have to get married. Hook up with the right girl and you’ll be occupied all night long. Or not. Depends on what you’re after, really. A one night stand? I recommend the bars where the girls get slightly tipsy. Or something more long term? I recommend the bars where you meet a girl that’s not so tipsy but still wants to get in bed with you.”

“Or how about the loving relationship that everyone is talking about? Girlfriend? Partner? In the Land of the Long White Cloud, we’ve got something called a de facto relationship. Which means that you’re pretty much husband and wife minus the marriage certificate, the 1 carat diamond ring, wedding bands and vows and ceremony.”

“So you were saying that you wanted marriage for…?”

He mumbled something incomprehensible.

My point exactly. AGAIN.

Funny, really. The Sociologist and I were once talking about marriage and how some people used it as a way to keep the other person to themselves. Or maybe not. It was more of a trap rather than a willing voyage to experience life together.

So what is marriage, really?

I read in a magazine that the whole lovesick game is for teenagers.

Quote.

A man needs a partner, not someone to make him whole.

Unquote.

What do you think?

If we were to talk out the religious, social, personal, whatever, implications of marriage and just define marriage as it is, what is it?

A willing union between two persons to spend the rest of their lives together?

A formal binding contract that two people make with each other to stick it out the rest of their lives?

What is it?

This is really quite a rant for me.

Apparently, I’ve got a lot of theories on a lot of different things. Which I think is personally a good thing. I can sit down and discuss euthanasia with you. Or I can sit down and discuss the ideals of anything you want to talk about. Well, hopefully, something I understand a bit of as well.

Hm.

***

With 17 years more to go, I really do want to live life to the fullest. Life does become all the more precious with the less time you have.

Today, I saw a 91 year old with impeccable balance, poise, and drive. If I ever decided to put the gun down when I hit my 40th birthday, I would aspire to be like him.

He lived on his own, cooked his own meals, he was still driving, for goodness’s sakes!

Or hopefully, voluntary euthanasia would have become legal by law and I wouldn’t be assumed to be crazy for wanting to die young. What’s wrong with wanting to die young? Do I need to follow the dictatorship of the majority that everyone was to die old, wrinkled, frail, and diseased?

This was another conversation topic with Annoying Flatmate. He asked me, “Why do you want to die at 40?”

I waved a walking stick (yes, I was carrying one at the time) and waved it at the patients’ rooms. It pretty much emphasised my point.

“Do you want to be like that when you grow older?”

“Incontinent?”

“Insane?”

“Aggressive?”

“Demented?”

“Breathless?”

“Alone?”

“In pain?”

“Suffocating?”

“Choking on your own spit/vomit/phlegm?”

“Bitter?”

“Poor?”

“Terminal?”

“Sitting in your own filth?”

“Unable to wipe your own ass that someone else has to do it for you?”

“Do you want to be like that?”

“And even if you don’t want to be like that, how do you know that you’re not going to be a demented, aggressive man who is in pain and finally carks it by his heart failing or viruses taking over your body or flailing around in a bed, unable to understand, talk, paralysed, catatonic because of a stroke?”

He mumbled something incomprehensible.

My point exactly. AGAIN.

My outlook on things, you might as well go while the going is good. Live life to the fullest, enjoy all little pleasures, and when you feel that you’ve had enough of it all, leave the world behind.

Which in turn, would mean that it would be good to do a bucket list of sorts, actually. Hm. I really should.

Especially if all I have is 17 years left.