Little girls are supposed to dream of marrying the guy of her dreams and having several darling little children and living happily ever after until you die.
Some time after entering college, I realized that my dream doesn’t include a Mr. Perfect.
(Or a Mrs. Perfect, since I’m somewhat flexible in my sexuality… or romanticity? I don’t like touching girl parts. Anyway, since I mostly like boys I’ll speak as if they’re the only option for me.)
I don’t want to get married. Ever. That includes living with a boyfriend for the rest of my life with our kids, which is basically marriage without the official stuff.
I guess I sorta still believe in a Mr. Right, though. If I find him, maybe then he’ll completely and utterly change my mind. Since I haven’t met him yet, I don’t know what kind of power he’ll have over my emotions and life so as for now marriage continues to be a no no.
On a sadder note, that probably means Manny isn’t that Mr. Right, even though the guy has made it pretty clear that he thinks I’m The One.
…He has explicitly said I WANT TO MARRY YOU and thus this will not be a pretty break-up.
So, my reasons. This kind of decision doesn’t just come out of nowhere. It’s nothing about the female empowerment/Independent Woman thing, because as feminist as I’ve become, I’m not that feminist for a girl surrounded by hardcore feminists at a women’s college.
It’s just that if I were to get married, I’d want to at least do the traditional Vietnamese wedding things. That includes wearing this.
And subjecting my husband to the same thing. Which is usually a blue and horrific version of whatever the dude’s wearing. It looks super bizarre on anyone who’s not east or southeast Asian and frankly I don’t usually gravitate towards those men.
OKAY, in all seriousness:
I fear forever. Except for when saying it jokingly, I am very careful when using that word. Isn’t it kind of a… scary word? Forever is like a promise, which I don’t like making.
When Manny is drunk, he gets excessively lovey-dovey and cute. He’d tell me he loves me a thousand times through text, Skype, drunken phone calls, or in person if I’m there with him. The only time we got ultra wasted together, we were cuddling on the couch in his suite, murmuring things to each other. Everything was fine until he asked something I hoped he’d never ask.
“Will you love me forever?”
Like I said, I do not like the implications of forever. My roommate would say it’s the pessimist in me — I disagree and call it realism — but I believe everything is finite. Sober Mimi would have hesitated to hurt Manny with the truth. Drunk Mimi, on the other hand, speaks her heart and doesn’t think of the consequences because that’s what drunk people do.
I simply sighed back at him, “I can’t promise that.”
And, well, that only made him curl up into a little ball of sadness. But I wasn’t going to lie, or rather, make promises that I might not be able to keep. So instead, I agreed to love him for as long as I can, and he seemed content enough with that.
In marriage, you are essentially vowing to love your significant other forever, and I don’t do this “forever” stuff. See the problem?
Thus, my plan to never marry.
I DO want a kid, though. At least one. Probably in my late 20s, early 30s. But I also want to be a single mother, This is setting myself up for disaster/a messed up child because I apparently have no sense of responsibility. I haven’t decided yet if I want to visit a sperm bank or get knocked up by a hot and only-mildly-sketchy stranger or ask someone I already know to, uh, inseminate me.
Manny, among many others, tells me this is quite the idiotic idea, asking me if I know what it’s like to grow up without a father.
I am going to ignore the heteronormative implications of that statement and assume he meant growing up with just one parent.
It will be tough. Hopefully I’ll still have people around to support my destructive choices. If my parents don’t kick me out of the house/don’t deny that I was ever their daughter, I’ll still have them, and I know my college friends will back me up, even if they were uncertain about the whole thing to begin with.
Who knows if I’ll even have the guts to go through with this. Well, no matter what decision I make, I’ll be sure to document my entire self-destructive journey right here!
Stay tuned for disaster, journal. <3
Until next time,
~ Mimi (: