Marriage Is Like A Public Toilet

Photo of Old Couple Kissing from Time Magazine

Marriage is like a public toilet. Those waiting outside are desperate to get in and those inside are desperate to get out. ~ found on the cover of a senior’s bulletin.

The other day, some girlfriends were having a little natter over an extended lunch that rolled to tea. Three marrieds, 1 divorced and 2 singles. A nice group to exchange jibes and lament our mutual predicament of menopause, men, children and lost loves.

The marrieds (we’re talking high school and college sweethearts hitching up, here) have been married way too long. They’re beginning to look like each other. A pair actually looked like cousins or siblings.

Flamboyant Sam is suddenly a grandmother at 40. She sighed nonchalantly, lifted her eyes and waved her hands in the air. “When my son started seeing this girl, my husband and I were so worried. Gary’s was 17 then and she’s 15. I took a look at her and the alarm bells went off. Healthy, frisky and ovulating like clockwork. Sure die standing, my Gary boy”

Sam continued, “This girl will make all sorts of excuses to get Gary to stay over, apparently her parents go outstation all the time. So what to do, afraid to sleep alone in her house and all that. We had no choice but to get her to come over and stay with Gary’s sister at first. Then she starts to creep to Gary’s room at night.” Sam sighed.

Sam must have seen me raise that errand eyebrow, “Else if she’s with filling, my Gary will be charged with rape whether with or without her consent, worst still. So what else to do. I have two horny teenagers on my hands.”

Sam rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. “So Dad and I agreed that if they’re going to do it, might as well be under our roof. Mom here,” she tapped that space between her eyes, “had to supply the condoms. Duh.”

We all nodded and tut-tut. Poor mommy. I thought to myself: Like that also can. How did the baby come about then?

Sue smile wearily, “They ran out of rubber, one weekend when Dad and I went outstation for a wedding reception. And have no time to go buy, can you imagine that?”

We sighed. Still it was funny in a way. All of us laughed gingerly at first. Sam let out a hearty belly laugh that shocked us with her acceptance and humour in all this. She showed us pictures of Amber on her hand phone. Precious life. Amber’s gorgeous and so young looking. When the parents are teens, their babies have this air of innocence about them.

LeAnn started abruptly, “My family’s so upset with my small brother,” she sighed and shrugged her shoulder. We stopped looking at baby Amber’s digital images and turned to LeAnn. “What’s wrong honey, “Tina asked and patted her hand.

LeAnn continued, “At least Gary is young and immature. My brother’s 38 when he started dating this girl who told him that she had to be married by last December.”

All of our eyes widened: She’s with filling.

“Yes and the idiot didn’t believe his friends and family. Went ahead to fall head over heels in love with her and of course bedded her ASAP,” LeAnn paused for effect.

We said collectively: And…

“Well, he begged, cried, whinged like a little boy, so the family consented and paid for his wedding. He kept telling us that the baby’s premature.” LeAnn grimaced. “As if we old aunties can’t count how long it takes to grow a baby.”

Sam gave LeAnn a hug. It’s one of those things called life. It happens especially when there’s no blood in the man’s brains. We laughed again.

The other married, quiet and demure looked uneasy. “My husband has another family,” she confessed. “He told me on our wedding day. Everyone just thought I was shedding tears of joy.”

We thought aloud: How cruel. I imagined a tear or two rolled from her eyes down her porcelain face.

She’s that nice and sweet. How could he have done that? Impossible to imagine.

She smiled a little smile, “Her children are bigger than mine. He married her when he was in Canada. Just to get his PR. It didn’t work out and he moved back here and met me. I just never thought I’ll end up as a second wife,” she laughed and cried at the same time.

Her huge soulful eyes filled with tears, “It’s not like he doesn’t provide or takes care of us, and it’s just that he also belongs to another family.”

She continued, “No, he’s not divorce either. He doesn’t need to provide for them. She knows and understands too. White people are like that. More accepting I think. He only goes for the milestones in her kids’ life. It just breaks my heart to think that one day I will need to tell my children the truth about their perfect father…” her voice trailed off.

Mei called the waiter for something stiffer. A double martini for herself and lychee margarita for the other girls. “Come on, you soapy miserable lot,” she laughed and downed her drink in two gulps. “Misery loves company”.

She orders a second and pushed our cakes and pastries out of the way. Mei has been divorced for 5 years and lived another 5 years with a continuous string of boyfriends. Her ex has the kids and she’s been partying ever since. We’ve not seen her sober since her divorce. But Mei’s good fun and good party to have around.

Maxine or Max as she likes to be called is still single at 38. Never been married and never been in a long term relationship that lasted more than 3 months. She will move on once the hundred day mark is reached in every relationship.

Quirky, hilariously funny, Max is the cumulative of self-sabotage at work. We never really found out who she was seeing. The names of the men don’t matter. They’re changing all the time, we’ve forgotten. This first quarter she was seeing a musician. Then it was somebody in theatre. Last year was this artist who painted murals or something. Before that a copywriter.

All of us agreed, she had a thing for the arts and was very cultural. She also has a knack for the literary type. Those who spew poetry. Max calls it cosmopolitan.

We call her a hopeless romantic at heart. Max had her heart broken by this law student years ago. He was the one who sent her sunflower seeds and recited Wordsworth when they were lost in a maze and stole her first kiss under that light afternoon drizzle. She still keeps that leaf that was stuck in her long hair.

Thinking back, we now understood why she chooses to remain a single. One day, Max told us that she sometimes love the way it feels to fall in love. She said that’s the best feeling to feel. She didn’t want to move beyond that.

“Nothing wrong really in thinking that way, right?” Max asked, not really wanting to hear an answer.

I recall a poem I read the other day…

Sometimes I think maybe I don't love you, I only love the way it feels to think I love you, so maybe that feeling should make love to me instead…

Perhaps Maxine is right.

This poem was written by fighting wife and husband. ~ A long sms received on my mobile

Husband: I wrote your name on the sand and it got washed. I wrote your name in the air, it was blown away. Then I wrote your name on my heart and I got a Heart Attack.

Wife: God saw me hungry, He created pizza. He saw me thirsty, He created Pepsi. He saw me in the dark, He created light. He saw me without problems, He created YOU.

Husband: Twinkle, twinkle little star. You should know what you are. And once you know what you are, Mental Hospital is not so far.

Wife: The rain makes all things beautiful. The grass and flowers too. If rain makes all things beautiful. Why doesn’t it rain on you?

Husband: Roses are red; Violets are blue. Monkeys like you should be kept in the zoo. Don’t feel so angry, you’ll find me there too. Not in a cage, but laughing at you…

Doris Lim is a popular freelance writer who blogs as Little Fish on travel and food stories here. Be sure to check out her other inspiring stories and follow her Instagram @SmartDoryID & Facebook to check out more places to eat delicious street foods or dine in the best restaurants!