The Millar’s Tale

My friend Jen’s parent’s story is truly a romantic tale.  The first time they met he saw a vision of beauty; cascading brown hair, beautiful eyes, and the sweetest voice he ever heard.  She saw, well . . . a giant troll.  He was entranced.  She was exasperated.  He was delighted.  She was disgusted.  He was smitten.  She was sick to her stomach.  He had butterflies.  She was about to lose her lunch.

He, however, was not to be denied.  He called her.  She ignored him.  He sent her flowers.  She ignored him.  He wrote her poems.  She read the poems.  Her eyes welled up with tears.  And then she ignored him.

For 6 months he pursued the object of his affection.  For 6 months she ran  . . . fast . . . I mean really fast . . . really, really fast.  And then something happened which can only be explained by the mysteries of the cosmos.  She fell madly in love with him.  Last year, they celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary.

Today, we have a name for this romantic tale.  We call it stalking.  Try this same tactic today and you will not get a wife; you will get a restraining order.

In fairy-tales that little girls grow up with, the handsome prince shows up at the castle climbs up the trellis and whisks his true love away to live happily ever after.  In the real world this is referred to as breaking and entering with a side-order of kidnapping.

What happened to the world?  Is romance dead?  Does romance no longer exist?  Perhaps it is how we have evolved as humans.  10,000 years ago when you met someone you liked, you followed the respectable courting protocol.  You clubbed her over the head and dragged her back to your cave. 

Of course we no longer do this.  Nowadays we have to buy her a drink first.

No actually, over the centuries, we really did try to modernize dating.

First, we had arranged marriages.  We actually decided it would be smart if our parents chose our mate for us. This action not only ensured that we would procreate, but that we would be with someone who could annoy us for the next 50 years, about the same things our parents had annoyed us about for the first 18.  This, I believe, is the sole reason that the average life expectancy during this time was only 32.

Arranged marriages – now whose idea was that?  Not that arranged marriages are such a bad idea.  With 50% of marriages ending in divorce, could our parents choose any more poorly than we choose for ourselves? 

“Stop!” you say, “Don’t arranged marriages take away the unalienable right that we all have called Free Choice?

Yes, we have the right to choose.  We have the right to fall in love and marry that person we fall in love with.  We have a right to choose someone who all our friends hate, our parents hate, and who, if we weren’t completely morons, we would have noticed that we hate as well.

Later in history with the rise of specialization, the arranged marriage was replaced by the “Yenta.”  (The town Matchmaker.)  After all, if your parents couldn’t pick the perfect mate for you, surely the woman in town who knew everyone could find that special someone.  This system worked well for hundreds of years until the town Yenta’s began to realize the financial benefits of repeat business, so they started hooking people up who would ultimately hate each other, creating the concept of divorce and ensuring and constant flow of new business for the Yenta. 

The industrial age brought a variety of modern techniques for picking the perfect mate.  These included the Singles’s Bar, The Dating Service, Online Dating and finally, “Speed Dating.” 

Speed Dating is based on the concept that in an 8-minute conversation you can accurately predict that this is the person you may or may not want to spend the rest of your life with.  This may work – I do not know.  But I do believe that it will exasperate another problem.  Does it seem fair that a girl meets you at 8-minute dating and then expects more than 4-minute sex?

Fast forward to Year 2124.  A computer has now been devised which will find you the perfect mate.  All you have to do is answer a few simple questions, provide a urine sample, give a pint of blood and spend 7 days in a brain scanning machine so the computer will understand every one of your most intimate desires and dreams.  Then, instantly, the computer will give you give you the name of your soul mate.  And of course, it will most likely be the name of your ex-wife.

Copyright 2004 – 2008, Glenn G. Millar

I have female friends that are moral, decent people. They believe in long-term relationships. They don’t sleep around. They don’t do one-night stands. They want to love a man before making love to him. These are strong women who adhere to these beliefs . . . until they cross a state-line.

Then they have “Vacation Sex.”

What is it about going on vacation that makes good girls go bad. Woman who barely kiss on the first date are suddenly making out on the dance floor with a Brazilian guy named Ricardo. And the next morning, when they sneak away from Ricardo’s room, the fact that Ricardo is really named John and actually lives in New Jersey doesn’t bother them a bit. Continue reading →

No matter what your religion or ethnicity, it seems critically important to Mothers that you marry within your ethnic background. If you are Asian, your Mother wants you to date other Asians. If you are Catholic, you must marry another Catholic. And, if you are Jewish then you should find a nice Jewish boy or girl.

I can’t speak for other cultures, but in the case of Judaism there is a critical reason for marrying within the religion. In this way, we ensure that the guilt chain is carried down from generation to generation.

Parents seem to get angry when you date outside of your ethnic background. For instance, if you are Jewish, you can actually give your Mother a heart attack by dating a Catholic. Frankly, I am not completely sure why this is, when Catholics and Jews have so much in common.

The both come with Mother’s who are over-protective, but are really good cooks. They both come with Mother’s who want lots of grandchildren and want them now. And of course they both come with truckloads of guilt. I suppose the difference is that in Catholicism the guilt comes from the entire religion whereas in Judaism, the guilt dispensary is handled exclusively by your Mother.

But both religions come with a Mother who considers it a personal affront, if not a mortal sin, that you are over 30, single and aren’t going to have children in the next 6 months.

Like all good Jewish Mothers, my Mother is always bugging me about getting married. “Have you met any nice Jewish girls?” she will always ask me. If I answer, “no”, she will invariably try and fix me up. She thinks she is Yenta the Matchmaker.

She’ll say to me. “I have just the girl for you.”

“Really Mom? Who is she?”
“A woman in my bridge club. Her Niece’s friend. A nice girl,” she replies.

“So you’ve never actually met her?” I ask. “No, but she’d be perfect for you”

“Thanks, Mom. But, I don’t think so.”

“See if I care. I should go to my grave with no grandchildren.”

One time my Mother called me, once again, trying to fix me up.

“Glenn, you remember my friend, Doris Kilinivich?”

“Yes, Mom. But I didn’t know she had a daughter.”

“She doesn’t,” says my Mother.

“But her husband Morty’s been dead two years now. Maybe you could ask her out.”

I’m always trying to get my Mother off my back about me still being single. I had tried everything, but nothing worked. When I moved to I thought I had found a solution.

You see, my Mother is extremely conservative. So one time when she called and as usual asked, “Have you met any nice Jewish girls?” I decided to play on her worst fears.

“Mom, you are not going to believe this. I met the perfect person. We are deeply and madly in love. We have so much in common. We do everything together. Even the sex is incredible. Mom, he is the nicest man you would ever want to meet.”

There was deadening silence on the other end of the phone. “I have her,” I thought. “I have finally shut her up.”
Then, finally, the sound of my Mother’s voice. “So, is he Jewish?”

Copyright 2004 – 2008, Glenn G. Millar

I’ve begun to realize that the reason men and women don’t communicate is because they speak different languages. Women talk about feelings. Men talk about sports. Women talk about relationships, about their inner most hopes, dreams and fears. Men talk about sports. Women talk about where they’ve been, where they are and where they hope to be. Men, on the other hand, talk about . . . sports.

A woman can remember every detail of the first date she had with a guy 12 years ago, down to the color of his tie, even though she hasn’t seen the guy in years.

A man can remember every detail of a football game that took place 12 years ago, down to the names of both kickers, even though it was between two teams vying for last place.

Men and women would communicate much better if they spoke the same language.

Continue reading →