Getting “Married”

Do I want to get married? What does that mean? Take on someone else’s name? Live in someone’s basement for rent that’s more than I earn a month? Scrounge pennies to buy the supper someone else likes? Pick up someone’s socks? No, not at all.

I like my last name. It’s quite a good one. It’s only downhill from here, actually. My room is a comfortable size and I really don’t look forward to moving into a full apartment with the same dimensions. Besides, I’d need a full-time job just to pay the rent, let alone serve dinner. And let’s not go into the socks.

Before anyone starts howling at me, that doesn’t mean I would never do any of the above. I simply don’t want it for its own sake. When people say, “Do you want to get married” that’s what comes to mind. There’s no “significant other” in the picture. It’s just marriage.

If the question was “would you like to meet and marry a young bochur that you admire so much that you’d be willing to take his last name, live in a basement, scrounge pennies to be able to make the suppers he likes, and pick up his socks?” I would answer, “Sure. Except I’d prefer if he’d pick up his own socks.”

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