One reason I just can’t bring myself to get married in the Church is because I used to work in the sausage factory. That is, at the publishing company that put out the Catholic Marriage Prep course materials.
Now, in theory, pre-Cana is an ingenious idea. But the fact that the classes are run by a celibate unmarried man is just one of the bugs in the system we need to work on. I see they’ve finally replaced the hideous, patronizing cartoon cover on the materials (yes, they had CARTOONS on the covers) with what looks like Rembrant’s “Jewish Bride”.
Very nice. If they’ve revised the content, too, great, but I have a feeling it is still mediocre.
On the other hand, back in Grade 11, my Catholic girls school presented a whole semester on marriage that left a long term, positive impression. Probably because our Religion teacher was a married woman. It was realistic (“Lust is not love”) and practical yet spiritual — “don’t go to bed angry” is a Biblical precept, after all. The Ginas didn’t appreciate it much; they care more about their wedding days than their marriages. When I listen to women complain about their relationships, I realize how lucky I was that I’d attended that particular Catholic school at that particular time.
Today, I’d try to get permission to show my students The 40 Year Old Virgin and Knocked Up. I’ve predicted before that these two movies will have more positive influence on attitudes towards sex and abortion than anything the Bishops have and could ever put out.
Because, in part, they speak to people where they’re at. And where lots of people are at is in their bedroom playing video games and watching porn and other mundane stuff.
Which brings us to this very raunchy — and quite wise — “How To Save Your Marriage” Guide. It is written as a joke but the punch line is, it would make a better handout at Marriage Preparation classes than anything the Canadian Bishops could ever cook up.
Some choice bits:
“The problem on our end is that we [men] tend to treat a marriage in the same way that we treated our high school relationships. That is to say halfassed.”
On the Great Video Game Problem (don’t laugh: I know a 30-ish woman who is a natural platinum blond with that Winona Ryder “shelf-o-boobs”. A cross between Reese Witherspoon and Drew Barrymore. She is highly educated and in spite of that, also witty and wise. You can take her anywhere. She has a high paying job and owns her own home. Her fiance broke their engagement a month away from the wedding, because… he told her that being married would take time away from his video games.)
“That’s bullshit. [you say] Both me and my wife play and enjoy games together.” You’ll be divorced within the next five years. Even in a game like World of Warcraft where you can play and speak together, you’re still separating yourselves from each other, physically. You’re existing together in an unnatural fantasy world, and it isn’t healthy. Not for a full-grown married couple. I doubt that you’re using your game time to discuss emotions or bills or to express your love for each other. You’re instead using that time to bitch about her inability to effectively heal your party leader and calling her a n00b.
On her Creative Side (like, scrapbooking and shit):
“Man, you know I don’t like that artsy bullshit. There’s no way I can pretend to like it.” You know what? There’s a very good possibility that she doesn’t like giving oral sex or receiving anal. However, it doesn’t prevent you from trying, does it?
I know what some of you are saying. “My girlfriend/wife loves giving oral sex. She even told me she does.” She’s saying to you what you need to be saying to her, where her creative side is concerned. You’d better start getting used to it right now because it will be your downfall later. Right now, her poems are oral sex. You don’t want to see what her version of anal is.
And remember: “She ain’t messin’ with no broke nigga”
Now, you spending 50 hours at work is no different than her spending 50 hours, taking care of the necessities at home. The difference is that you’re getting paid for your time, while she is not. If she were to suddenly get into a car accident or leave you for another more patient, understanding man with a massive schlong, your work week will no longer be 50 hours. You’ll have to take over her side of the deal, making your week 100 hours or more. I think that for that type of responsibility, she deserves half of the say-so in where the money is spent.
It ends with a laugh out loud fake divorce petition:
During sex, Respondent would repeatedly exclaim, “Wheee!” at inappropriate times.
Respondent would sing along to the car radio and substitute the word “pants” for “arms” in various songs. This prevented Petitioner’s enjoyment of the following songs by subverting their meaning:
a. Depeche Mode – Enjoy the Silence
All I ever wanted
All I ever needed
Is here, in my pants
b. Cutting Crew – Died in Your Arms Tonight (I Just)
Oh I, I just died in your pants tonight
Must have been something you said
c. Journey – Open Arms
So now I come to you
With open pants
I think I used to date this guy…
I don’t go along with all of this. 50/50 housework is an unattainable ideal, because it is a scientific fact that men literally cannot see dirt. If only dustbunnies had boobs.
And in an attempt to be nice, the author advises men to back off when their wives “don’t feel like it.” Dr. Laura’s advice is: “Ladies, learn to ‘feel like it’ or else. It won’t kill you.” Which, harsh as it sounds especially to Third Wave Feminist brains (male and female) is way smarter. Sorry.
Oh, and just to tie those two graphs together: “Learn to Feel Like” only works if you guys know what soap is and how it works. Ser
iously, dudes: we don’t really care if you have all your hair or even a bit of a gut but please: take a shower and brush your teeth. Like, every day?
Anyway, thanks to Conservative Grapevine for unearthing this gem.