Marriage Vows: Promises or Guidelines?

Everyone knows that Marriage Vows are archaic; that’s why so many people embarrass themselves by trying to write their own. (Hey, maybe if we reword this, and throw in this romantic/New Age/Dr. Seussical poem, it’ll seem less of a promise, more of just a Guideline...)

Please.

It doesn’t matter what you write, what you say, or what you do or do not promise. When push comes to shove, and by push comes to shove I mean when one of you gets a stomach bug that sticks around for way, way, way longer than 24 hours, will the Lovelight still shine in your eyes?

                       “Till Death, or Bodily Fluids, Do Us Part.”

And how about camping? Come on: women who say they like camping are freaking lying through their teeth. If He wanted us to camp, why did God tell Howard Johnson to create motels and serve up an awesome hot dog that we all know wasn’t cooked on a Coleman Stove?

I mean, if you are a nomad, living in the desert, and you have a tent, that’s fine. But I’ll never, ever promise to vacation in something made of canvas, or on wheels: for me, RV stands for Really Vicious, because that’s what I’ll become if forced to vacation in one.

Right now, my cousin and her husband are on a two month trip in an RV, with a living space that measures about 9 feet by 20 feet.  With an 80 pound black lab. They truly are an extremely fun, intelligent, and adventurous couple: their dog is also very fun. But for me, spending that amount of time, in that small of a space with my Beloved, would be like, seriously, Dante’s 10th circle of hell.

                      “Til Death, or You Buy a Coleman Stove, Do Us Part.”

Ok, call me jaded. Call me anti-wedding poetry, call me a Camping Hater. Call me whatever the hell you want, just know this: I think those vows really are just guidelines, with plenty of room for interpretation, and by interpretation, I mean when horrible things happen, what is really meant by   “obey”? (I love you, yes, but while you’re puking, I’m going to TJ Maxx: clean up after yourself, OK?)

So during your wedding ceremony, when it’s time for the Vows, how about you cross your fingers behind all that white tulle you’ve got on, and instead of saying “I do”,  shrug and say ... “Yeah, I guess so...”

Music will play, people will cry: I’ll be crying, because I cry at every wedding, even strangers’ weddings on TV; Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major plays, and I’m sobbing.

If I find out you’re going camping on your honeymoon, I’ll cry even harder. And you can bet that somewhere in heaven, Howard Johnson is crying too.