Every now and then, for no seemingly apparent reason, a few lines from the poem “Marriage” by Gregory Corso seem to reverberate out of nowhere. I could be driving, standing in line, or about to fall asleep and suddenly I hear:

“Should I get married? Should I be good?

Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and Faustus hood?”

While I don’t have a velvet suit and don’t know exactly what a Faustus hood is, I’m amazed and even a little frightened at how much I can relate being married to being good. Usually when someone reaches my age they’ve been married for 20 some odd years with kids, or married for the second or third time. Since I’m still single, I have the feeling that I’ve somehow failed my ancestors.

Recently three friends of mine told me their marriages were in trouble. One was in love with someone else and not sure how to tell their spouse, another couple decided to separate after years of trying to make it work and another was in the midst of a painful divorce. After talking with each of them I dared to think just how good I may actually have it being single. As a matter of fact, I mentioned to my mom and dad that the one thing I was thankful for was that I wasn’t married. Not because it’s a bad institution, but after years of therapy and soul-searching I know that I would probably be going through what some of my friends are going through now. For example:

When an old college friend’s marriage broke up I asked him why he got married in the first place. He told me that it was one of those iconic adult things he wanted to do so he could finally say he had grown up. And I’m afraid I understand all too well the idea that marriage would somehow fix me, some sort of mysterious transformation would take place and I would edge closer to the top of the happily-ever-after food chain. I don’t remember if love was a component in that particular belief system or not.

For the record, I have many friends who are happily married with partnerships anyone would envy. And I have friends that are more than willing to try again if it didn’t work out the first time. I recently talked with one getting ready for his third trip down the aisle. His previous breakups were very painful, but, difficult though it was, he was able to process those experiences and learn from them. And he’s fully aware that marriage, like a lot of things in life, is a risk, and you must be willing to embrace it all, and that means embracing every moment of joy and every moment of heartache. Otherwise you will never grow to attain any sense of emotional fulfillment. You will, in the words of Kahlil Gibran, “…drift into the seasonless world, where you will laugh, but not all of your laughter, and cry, but not all of your tears.”

When my youngest cousin got married, and I was suddenly the last of my generation still single, her brother pointed at me and said, “Your next!” I felt like I was waiting for a bullet. That was over ten years ago, but I still wonder if marriage isn’t something I should consider for the future. The thought of growing old and alone does haunt me occasionally. Gregory Corso understands my anxiety and offers me a possibility in his poem when he writes:

but there's got to be somebody!

Because what if I'm 60 years old and not married,

all alone in furnished room with pee stains on my underwear

and everybody else is married! All the universe married but me!

Ah, yet well I know that were a woman possible as I am possible

then marriage would be possible--

Like SHE in her lonely alien gaud waiting her Egyptian lover

so I wait--bereft of 2,000 years and the bath of life.

Paul McDonald © 2004