Why Bother?

As long term readers will be aware I'm a jolly spinster, having resolved at an early age not to get married or breed. Oh I did rather like the idea of a big frock, attention and lots of presents until the realisation hit me that a wedding is essentially a hugely expensive party to which one is compelled to invite one's parents. My parent's are nice enough people but they haven't been welcome at one of my parties since I left primary school. They would be an enormous wet blanket at a wedding party the last thing a bride wants is her mother catching her inviting the best man and the bridesmaids to a post reception orgy in the honeymoon suite.

If the subject of sex comes up at family gatherings I affect a slightly bewildered look and mutter 'oh that sex yes I think I read something about it once in a medical journal, what a silly business' , then swiftly change the subject. The last thing I need is my parents seeing me drunk at a party where I'm the centre of attention and getting the right idea about me. I have disappointed mother enough.

Then there is the frankly appalling way married people speak to each other, always trying to invite a third party into their petty disputes -bloody perverted squabble swingers the lot of them. I'd prefer not to end up like that. At present if anyone makes a disparaging remark about Mr Clairwil I want to kill them. Only the other day I brought tears to someone's eyes for failing to talk about him in suitably deferential tones. Of course if I were married to him I'd merely have laughed, denounced him as a twat and started chatting folk up at the office photocopier with a view to starting several affairs.

Anyway let's meander towards the point here. Today The Guardian published an article written by a very pleasant feminist lady who's having an awful time of it getting married. For a start she's got to contend with some buffoon who reads her blog sniping that she's failed to find a way 'to bring [the patriarchy] down'. Like I say I can't see the point in getting married but to each her own.

As a result of wanky comments like the above and making the terrible error of not wanting to offend people who are determined to be offended she's forced herself to jump through all sorts of ethical hoops: using her engagement to promote the fight for same sex marriages, buying an 'off white' dress from a charity shop, keeping her last name and the like. None of which I object to. I just think it's a shame that she has been made to feel that what should be a private matter and hopefully a happy one is something that requires justification.

Normally I want to shove folk like her down the stairs. Normally I'd sneer that's she's merely exchanged chasing male approval for chasing approval from an unrepresentative group of women but she seems like a rather earnest but decent, well intentioned egg so I shall refrain from doing so, in the hope that one day she grows a sturdier backbone and sticks up a jolly two fingers to the snipers.

In that spirit I'd like to invite her to Glasgow for her hen night. It'll be top hole stuff and we promise to keep it free from ethical considerations because even feminist bloggers deserve a day off. There will be a decent curry, booze, raucous laughter, bad dancing and the promise that what happens in Glasgow stays in Glasgow*. C'mon Jessie you won't be able to enjoy your wedding day for worrying what po-faced inadequate you've upset by enjoying yourself so make your hen night a night to remember. We'll even make the first bottle fairtrade. Let your hair down and fuck the bores for one night of your life.


* Alternatively she could write about it on her blog and alienate the duller readership.


Marty said...

if you ever take the plunge I want to perform at your hen party.

Clairwil said...

You are a gent. From now on I shall regard you and only you as the official Clairwil stripper.