I got married...sort of

I met a girl, almost two weeks ago. We share German and American Literature classes. We talked. Yesterday, while talking on AIM she decided she like my last name. So she asked me to marry her. I, or course, said “yes”. So we got married today, immediately before German. The ceremony consisted of me giving her one of those plastic rings below the lid of a pop bottle, and saying “Have a wedding ring.” So, now she goes by my last name, and we wear our “wedding rings” on the proper fingers. (We’re 16, by the way)

If I’d known it was that easy, there’s someone I would have proposed to a long time ago.

I really hate to be the bearer of bad news, but getting married before German invalidates the ceremony. You have to do it either: during USHistory, or after Trig. Any Foreign Language course within 30 minutes of the ceremony renders it null.

As for the rings, all I can say is…dayum, but y’all got big fingers! :smiley:

I’m 38. I have been married for… a long time. I will give you some advice.

Now that you are married, your wife has certain expectations of you. She will not tell you what these expectations are. It is impossible for you to find out what these expectations are. If you do find them out (which I think I mentioned was impossible, but just saying) they will be impossible to achieve.

When you fail to achieve them (and you will fail) your life will be made into a constant living hell.

You will remember what it was that you failed to do, and you will resolve never to fail to do it again.

The next time, you will do this thing that you were supposed to have done the first time, and you will feel proud and happy. What you don’t know is that the expectation has changed and you are no longer supposed to do that thing you didn’t do. You were supposed to do something else. She won’t tell you what that something else is, and it is impossible for you to figure it out. Your life will be made a living hell for this.

So my advice is this: There is a part of your brain which contains will and volition. This part of your brain has an ego. It makes decisions and takes action. This part of your brain has opinions and thinks thoughts.

This part of you brain is very bad, and you need to make arrangements to either shut it down or remove it by sticking a coat hanger in your cranium and swirling it around like stirring a drink. Electroshock works well, too.

Lest this sound extreme, let me remind you that this is what your wife will be doing to you, so the sooner you accept it and get it over with the happier you will be.

Over the years, I have simply become a tool… an appendage of my wife’s will.

You know what?

It really, really is better this way.

(once you get this part taken care of, come over some time and I’ll explain to you about the emotional and psychic castration that comes next.)

Nope. She wears hers over two fingers. I have somewhat larger fingers, so I don’t, but it’s still very loose.

This is a HETEROSEXUAL union, right? Because homosexual pretend weddings before German involving plastic pop bottle rings are an AFFRONT to GOD!

Really? Mine isn’t, but I have two female friends who are married in a similar way. I don’t think they got married before German though. Does that make it better?

Oh, thank goodness. 'Cause otherwise I’d be nearing my silver anniversary with Brian what’s-his-name. I only married him because he had the coolest ride; I wasn’t allowed off the driveway yet, and he had the best big-boy bike on the street – no training wheels! Ah, young love.

Juuuuuuust barely. But God’s going to be keeping a close eye on them.

I think I’ll do that, too. Do they have a webcam?

Be careful. That is how this can happen.

Heiraten macht Spass. Scheidung ist Scheisse.

So, Scylla, I see you married my ex. I’ve wondered (infrequently) whither she’d wandered to.

Condolences.

If you listen too much to Scylla, you too will become a raging sea monster and be filled with the desire to move to Gibraltar. On the plus side, you get to eat ships passing in and out of the Mediterranean. I hear those ships have lots of goodies inside.

I had some really good fish and chips in Gibraltar once. Did you know that if you park on the Spain side, you have to walk across the airport runway (be sure to look right and left) to get to Gibraltar?

The train of thought has left the station. There was something about some Germans getting married and drinking soda, but I forget the rest. Cheers!

(yeah, had to hit the Vicodin tonight, apologies all around)

That’s so cute! I wish you a long and happy life together. :smiley:

Scylla, I would like to take very strong exception to everything you’ve said! :mad:

… I would like to… but I can’t… for I’ve lived your pain… :frowning:

Well damn! I’m an old bachelor now, at 20. I’ve gotta get hitched, too! Maybe one of my friends will consent to marry me. Not before German, though. Before Linguistics. Oh yes. That would be very romantic. Well, I’m off to find someone to court! Wish me luck!

[sub]Oh crap, I don’t have a cool last name…[/sub]

My first wife and I were married on our way to a Rolling Stones concert. Our reception was 4 of us drinking champagne in the park until told it was an alcohol free zone. As usual the band was great and Jagger was dreadful. Thirty-odd years later we are still friends. Good luck.

Hey, now. I’ve lived the pain, too, but it was men who did all these manipulative things. However, I’m more than willing to call both of them “bitches”. :smiley:
Ah, young love. I was married once, too, when I was ten years old. To my toddlerhood sweetheart. You see, a friend of mine brought these two, gauzy, hideous, neon-coloured scarves to school one day. On the bus, we noticed that when you fanned them out, they looked like new-age wedding veils. Well, that sealed it: we were to find men *that very day * and get married. But immediately.
I found my old boyfriend and asked him if he would marry me. (a boy who, since the day he laid eyes on me as children just out of our diapers, had been sending me his mother’s perfume samples, tin jewelry from the dime prize machine, and insisting we hold hands in public - scandalous!) He immediately agreed. My friend had a harder time finding a man. She was roundly considered “stinky” by the rest of the class, so few boys wanted to marry into that dubious dowry. Eventually, she found the tall, lanky fellow who liked to eat ant eggs.
We discussed our plans with another girl in the classroom, who thought the idea was utterly adorable, and said she wanted to be the one to marry us. And so, at noon sharp (more or less), we trudged outside to the meadow next to the baseball field. Our young minister married us with a Maths book.
My young beau wanted to kiss me on the lips, but I was a modest young bride and insisted he only kiss my cheek. Through the veil. When it came time to seal the deal with a kiss, the cheeky little bastard lifted my veil and planted a juicy on my forehead. The remainder of the noon hour was celebrated by chasing each other around the field, tagging each other, declaring each other “it”, veils fluttering behind us.
On the bus ride home, we got a divorce. It was a hostile one, but by the next day, he was visiting again, and we joyously sang school pride songs, nestled together in my father’s hammock, replacing crucial words with the word “poop”, and all was right in the world again.

I wish adult life were so easy.

I got married when I was 14 or so. It was in a compuserve chat room, back when compuserve didn’t have screennames, just long strings of numbers. My handle was something like 21654011608.68406948094@compuserve.com.

It was late at night and I was chatting, quoting movies back and forth with a guy named Aaron. He was up late “studying” for midterms (UNC Chapel Hill, I think). We got married in a bizarre ceremony. Bill “Hudson, Sir. He’s Hicks” Paxton was our officiant. We managed to weird out everyone else in the room, and they all left.

I kept up correspondance with him for years. He moved to New York (he was an advertising major) and lived near Lenny Kravitz. Hmmm. I wonder what he’s up to. I’m off to google him.