Married on Mondays

by HoneyB

  Realistically, marriage should be viewed as a partnership, an exchange of goods for services. Most marriages are rooted in some form of religion that dictates marriage should be based on love. The origin of marriage vows is older than any existing marriage, yet most folk recite them anyway. Clueless about their true meaning or what the vows mean to them, they cheerfully oblige when the person presiding over their ceremony says, “Repeat after me.” Repeat what? Vows someone you don’t even know came up with thousands of years ago? How clever is that?

  From religious-based moral safeguards to the biblical duty to procreate to the social definitions of right and wrong to the ultimate belief that family is the fundamental unit of society and the guilt of fornication that states marriage is truly the only legitimate way to indulge in sex, couples stand at the altar craving sex (not necessarily with their partner). That’s what marriage comes down to, you know. Partners are reduced to sex objects of desire. They worry more about who their spouse is having or thinking about having sex with than about the overall health of their mate.

  I’ve said it before in another book, and I’ll say it now, “We should have a Worldwide Orgy Day so we can all fuck and fuck up at the same time.” Is initiating sex a husband’s duty? A wife’s obligation? Would you stop loving your spouse if you caught them cheating? Why? Should you treat your spouse like a child, place them on time-out for bad behavior, make them sit and wait until… you’re in the mood, not to make love but to have sex? That’s cool as long as you don’t mind them getting a lap dance in that corner or having their needs met elsewhere in the interim. Let’s explore a value that is dormant in today’s society… morals.

  Morals. If most people upheld their own, many more relationships would succeed. But hey, who needs morals when all sins are weighted equally? Shouldn’t adults have the right to be happy without feeling guilty for indulging in pleasure? And if being happy means having extra, as in extramarital affairs, then pleasantries are indeed plentiful. Especially since most, if not all, married people merely have a permit. A license that excludes any mention of fidelity, thereby permitting their partner to have sex outside of the marriage. Like it or not, “You can’t break what you didn’t take.”

  One can marry for love if they’d like. I wouldn’t because most married folk do at some point during their marriage fall out of love with one another and in love or lust with someone else. I swear I didn’t make this up. The next time you encounter a married couple that’s not on their honeymoon, notice how their marriage has grown into what they should’ve had from the very beginning, a partnership. Contracts allow individuals to sue for specific performance, breach, monetary recourse, etc. A contract has enforceable rights; a license does not. You may disagree with my interpretations, but feel free to email me at ( honeyb@marymorrison.com) for the list of enforceable rights for a marriage license.

  A contract is executed and legally binding by both parties, a license is not. I hear you disagreeing with me on this one, but a contract requires performance. A license grants privileges and permission but doesn’t require you to do a damn thing. People stand before one another reciting vows while asking themselves, “What the hell am I doing?” So their “I do” really means, “I think so, but what if this doesn’t work out? Am I going to have to start over in five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, or thirty years?” If you had a contract, you could’ve included a “No Penalty, I Quit” opt-out clause. That means you get to keep your shit, I get to keep my shit.

  Then why get married in the first place, right? Because people not only want, they need somebody to love. That’s natural. Well, in the land of the free and the home of the brave, we do marry for love or lust, but at some point, the two overlap and eventually overwhelm people. Especially when the love or lust is redirected to someone outside the marriage. So how can you control someone’s actions? You can’t.

  The couples who marry for material gain—you know, for richer or richer—become stuck like Krazy Glue to one another because neither can afford the lifestyle they’ve acquired on their own, or they are just too damn selfish to give up half. Especially if they’ve contributed more than half of the household income.… Aw, damn. Should’ve gotten a prenuptial. Right?

  That’s why I believe marriage licenses should be abolished. There are no warranties or guarantees with any license. Married couples allow government to dictate their divorce. You don’t need a marriage license to grant power of attorney to your mate, and you hold the right to terminate a power of attorney whenever you want without legal ramifications. If we are free-thinking citizens, then we should have to tell the other person why we want to marry them. I don’t mean the things you think the other person wants to hear. Keep it real. Write it down. And draw up contracts that are reviewed by independent attorneys.

  Here’s my suggestion. If you want to marry someone, don’t combine your assets. You’ll soon discover how much they really love you. Start off new. Like you didn’t have assets before you met them. Consciously grow your relationship. Each party should earn their keep. Being a housewife is cool, but list housewife as your occupation in the contract and make sure you’re compensated, whatever that means to you.

  Balance the money. Balance the power. If a man wants a trophy wife (you know, the former Miss this or that or the supermodel), then her monetary compensation should be included in the contract. If a woman wants a boy toy, he should be compensated too.

  But in reality, if you don’t know your self-worth before saying “I do,” I can guarantee you one thing, your self-worth will diminish after executing a marriage agreement. “What the hell? Why would HoneyB say something like that? Marriage is a good thing. Right?”

  It can be. But it’s not good for insecure people who are looking for a reason to be unhappy. I mean checking cell phones, pockets, cars, computers, etc. Go on, marry someone who starts tracking your every move with a damn GPS device. What does that prove at the end of the day? You should’ve married for money so your answer to the Southwest commercial question “Wanna get away?” wouldn’t be, “I can’t afford to.”

  Karma. What goes around comes around. True. But most folk prefer to live by, “Do as I say, not as I do.” Oh, hell with that mentality; one might as well draw up the divorce decree before walking down the aisle. Hmm, that’s not a bad idea.

  Foxy, Déjà, and Victoria Montgomery are the leading characters in Married on Mondays. Every woman should be fortunate enough to have Mr. Mason Montgomery as her father, a man who not only tells, but also teaches his daughters how to think like men, saying, “Men are like jobs, accept the job with the best benefits—insurance, working conditions, living environment, severance package, and pension plan.”

  In a perfect world, women would be free-thinking individuals whose opinions were valued by men. He’d listen to how her day went, and hear her. He’d touch her and feel her. He’d propose to her without being coaxed or given an ultimatum. He’d care about her overall well-being. He’d put her first. Respect her. He wouldn’t try to control her. He’d realize caring for the children was not her main responsibility but their mutual obligation. He’d close his eyes while kissing her. He’d open his heart and protect hers. In a perfect world, a man would show and tell his woman how much he loves her.

  In return, she’d support her man no matter what. She’d believe in his dreams no matter how far-fetched. Cook his meals. Wash his clothes. Stroke his ego. Warm his heart with her eyes. Rear their kids. She’d make their house his home. In a perfect world, marriage indeed would be satisfaction guaranteed or your love back.

  On Saturday, March 14, I was driving home (to Oakland) from Anaheim from the Big West Conference after watching my son, Jesse, play in the men’s basketball tournament, listening to a country-and-western radio station. I heard a song that I instantly fell in love with. Toby Keith’s lyrics, “I wish somehow I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then,” resonated with me as I hope they will with you.

  Some things are better left unto
ld.

  Poetry Corner

  False Faces

  Hide not behind lies

  But others’ lives

  Pointing fingers

  Shifting blame

  Tarnishing names

  Playing games

  Going insane

  Creating casualties

  Escaping their reality

  It’s all a formality

  Of

  Self-preservation

  Survival of the fittest prevails

  All the rest

  Can go to hell

  Instincts Originate

  To protect

  Failure to detect

  Life or death?

  Russian roulette

  To ignore

  The churn in the gut

  Is there

  Something more powerful

  More aware

  Alerts of danger

  Ignore

  Beware

  Daddy’s Girls

  Mean the world

  To a man whose backbone

  Is strong

  Would give his life

  To protect and defend

  Real men

  Tirelessly fight

  Man to man

  No sneaking or hiding

  Real men

  Fight for what’s right

  Real men

  Fight

  Real men

  Not Daddy’s little girls

  Neither a woman

  Nor his wife

  Ticktock

  Time waits

  For no one

  A fraction of a second

  Determines fate

  Could’ve told the truth

  Hesitation

  Should’ve made a move

  Procrastination

  A second

  An hour

  A day

  Too late

  Devastation

  What are you waiting…

  For

  Ticktock

  I Don’t Suck

  Lots of men come my way

  Some want a date

  Others want to play

  Then there are the ones

  Who simply want head

  Irrespective of the fact

  That they haven’t paid

  For a damn thing

  Then there are the men at the club

  Who wait until it’s late

  And they want to take you home to fuck

  But refuse to take you on a date

  They don’t want to leave alone

  Two o’clock in the morning

  Hard dicks galore

  So fucking hard

  They could wax the floor

  Men stroking erections

  With no affection

  Spittin’ game that’s lame

  They wanna kiss your lips

  Pound your hips

  Make you scream their name

  Those are the same men

  Who walked past you

  With a drink in their hand

  Acted like they did not see… you

  And did not speak… to you

  Those are the same men

  Who moved out your way

  So you could get to the bar

  They didn’t offer to pay

  Or bother to stay

  They checked you out from afar

  But right around two

  He made his move

  That’s when you heard him say

  Girl, I’ve been watching you all night

  Your body is tight

  And the mood is right

  Make love to me tonight

  Um, um…

  Excuse me

  Are you the same man

  Who didn’t bother to speak

  Or buy a drink

  Or ask my name

  And now you think

  I’m supposed to open my legs

  Take you to my place

  And give you head

  Listen to me

  ’Cause I’m going to say this once

  I don’t suck

  When my throat is dry

  And my stomach is rumbling

  And when my rent isn’t paid

  I got my nails done

  My hair is fierce

  I paid for this lingerie

  That’s clinging to my ass

  So, no thank you

  Keep your dick

  I politely pass

  Girl you missin’ out

  On the best sex of your life

  Well, I’ll take that chance

  ’Cause

  A dick just don’t taste right

  When I’m walking in broad daylight

  ’Cause I don’t have gas in my car

  I don’t want to fuck

  And I don’ already told you

  I don’t suck

  Listen to me

  ’Cause I’m going to say this once

  This good pussy

  Can do flips

  She can do tricks

  My tight pussy

  Can make you whipped

  Listen to me good

  ’Cause I’m going to say this once

  Your ass ain’t slick

  And I don’t suck