A punch(line) in the nuptials

1 11 2008

While I’ve been up here for Matt and Kayla’s wedding this weekend, I’ve been overwhelmed with thoughts of what marriage is.

Tangibly, it’s the sharing of everything; a weird sort of sharing in which more is gained (aw, just like love!) the more things are shared.  Matt and Kayla are hardly operating independent of each other anymore, at least on the whole.  It’s gushingly obvious that everything from the window dressing to the wedding march will be little more than, well, window dressing.

Essentially, Marriage is the ultimate comeuppance of human love.  Given that God is the true and final object for all of our love, Marriage seems to be greatest horizontal (to use stale analogies) love that is permitted, or perhaps encouraged.

Of course, as we groomsmen (all but one of us single) look at the bridesmaids (all but one of whom are married) whom we are accompanying up and down the aisle, thoughts of our own matrimonial ends (or beginnings! — OH, DEEP!) can’t help but be allowed to creep in.  Personally, I’ve been haunted by the level of intimacy these people have with each other.  To give of oneself with such unselfish abandon is as foreign to me as the thought of jumping in front of the president during an assassination attempt.  (thought: If S. Colbert were to be elected, would he even need bodyguards?  Surely the commies wouldn’t be that stupid.)

As part of me craves this intimacy with another (hot, please) human, the more conscious part recognizes that it is, really, this desire that manifests itself perversely in most every form of tained love.  As we headed to the rehearsal dinner downtown, my vision was continually plagued with women (and men) dressed (presumably)  to elicit illicit (BAM) feelings from men so as to boost their self esteem in the wake of intimacy’s short-circuited beginnings.

To rephrase: love is powerful enough to mystify me, and mysterious enough to overpower me.

Which is why I’m thankful that there are Kaylas out there who make the mysteriously powerful into the obviously blissful.  So, until I get back from China, I can kick up my feet and enjoy the less mysterious things as best I can.  After all, this leftover candy ain’t eatin’ itself.

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