Love Is Strange

My husband and I talk about everything. That’s great, of course. But, the topic that seems to emerge most often lately is what we would do if the other person died. I begin to wonder if this is not wishful thinking on someone’s part.

What’s more we have set up guidelines about how the surviving widow is to behave after the loss of the other. The surviving spouse must wait two years before attempting to seek any romantic involvement. We decided this was an acceptable time period.

We watch too damn many movies is what it boils down too. We just both fear that we’re going to come back to civilization after being deserted on an island or something and find the other one with some loser, raising some ugly kids.

But, things like that can happen. So, we made a pact to always take each other back in such an event. Romantic? Yes. Freaky as hell that we we’re so paranoid about such an improbable occurrence? Oh, yes.

But, keep an open mind, it’s improbable but not impossible. You could, conceivably, even in 2003, be stranded on an island. When you were rescued, wouldn’t it piss you off greatly if, after only a year, your spouse had latched onto someone else and acted like you were just some creepy ghost that had already been buried in his/her mind? I bet you are glad I pointed that out.

And how could we forget amnesia? (Yeah, the pun is intentional. Sorry.) You forget you ever had a spouse, and go on to become a famous rock star. Your spouse only listens to classical, of course. But, one day, he/she is flipping through the channels on cable, and sees your face. You are reunited after 10 long years. It’s amazing. It’s the stuff that dreams are made of. It’s oh so unlikely.

The only exception to the “two year” rule we came up with is cannibalism. In other words, you actually had to consume your spouse’s corpse in a time of dire emergency. Therefore, you know they won’t be miraculously reappearing suntanned and pissed off at you for not waiting the standard two years.

By the way, it is never acceptable to kill your spouse and then eat them, no matter how hungry you are. But, you can and should eat their corpse if they have already died of natural causes. This is the proper etiquette. If you don’t believe me, ask Miss Manners.

I don’t like the thought of my husband being happy with someone else after I’m dead. No, my wish is for him to die of loneliness – the wish of any loving wife.

But, I am not completely selfish. Therefore, I have agreed wholeheartedly with our “love constitution” up to now. I can live with the two year thing as long as I know he will continue to worship me in his heart and never, no matter how long they are married, actually kiss his new wife on the lips. I think this is reasonable.

But, I must admit, the “avenge my death” amendment that my husband is trying to enact is very questionable to me in some ways. If he is ever murdered, he would like for me to hunt down his killer and shoot them.

Sure, the criminal justice system leaves something to be desired. The fact that I get jury duty every 6-8 months is proof that jurors aren’t always America’s best and brightest. But, am I the best vigilante for the job? I very much doubt it.

The most likely scenario is one of me tracking down this horrible vicious killer, and said killer is just delighted to see me. Delighted, because I saved him some foot work.

I am not a trained agent. In fact, I am fairly weak and puny even compared to some of the queens of England. What’s more, I am pathetic at darts; I’ve been known to miss the dartboard entirely. Why should I assume I’d do any better at aiming a firearm? Not to mention, I would probably just die of a heart attack before the villain even had to lift a finger to wrestle the gun from my quivering hands. Great. Now who is going to avenge my death?

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