Bachelors Die Young

I don't take credit in life for very many things, inasmuch as I've done little of note, and many of the things I have done I'd like to forget. But I do take credit for the following brilliant saying:

"Bachelors die young, and old maids live forever."

So you see, my life has not been wasted.

Is the saying perfect? ...No. "Forever" is an exageration that doesn't fit and "old maid" is insulting to many mature unmarried women whom I have known and admired. But other than that... its brilliant!

The saying falls into the same category as certain other immutable truths like, "Jesus saves", "it takes one to know one", and "they call a doctor's business a practice for good reason." But its "bachelors die young" that particularly interests me.

I will turn 52 in January and I am amazed at times that I have remained single lo these many years. That wasn't my plan. I'm not gay. (not a "nancy-boy," as we say in Greentown) No, I have met and dated many females (of my species) who have stirred my heart and yet... here I am... facing an imminent and lonely death with no gold band on my ring finger. How did this happen?

I've been told I'm too picky. Nonsense! Plain Janes in my past abound. Abound, I tell you! But it brings up an interesting point. Women complain that men are only interested in a pretty face and a nice body. But this phenomenon is no more common or relevant than the occurences of women who choose or reject men based on the amount of their income... especially the second time around. So for every man who is a pig looking for "Barbie," there is a woman who is strictly mercenary.

And I? ...I look into a woman's soul. At least for awhile.

Does it hurt that women find me unattractive? Does it pain me that I am the kind of man that women prefer not to marry? Well... certainly not as much as it used to.

As I rapidly approach the last great precipice I note that my values have changed. When I was young I valued fast women, fast cars, and fast food. My values now are Jesus, mutual funds, and roughage. (Actually, I'm so regular that it sometimes frightens me, but here I try to relate to the bowels of lesser men) Its not that I'm no longer looking for a soft bosom on which to lay my head, (that certainly inspires an image, doesn't it?) but my search for said bosom in no way resembles the almost mythically heroic juggernaut that possesses men in their youth. And, more to my point here, God in his infinite wisdom and mercy has provided a way that single, childless men may avoid rusting away in a nursing home with no visitors. And here it is:

Through bad diet, lack of familial responsibilty or purpose, or the simple lack of stimulation to the immune system that intimacy affords... bachelors die young.

Am I wringing my hands over my sad fate? Not me! I pace, instead. I also have arguments alone in my house (while pacing) with people who have ticked me off. (I do both parts) And, my friend, these are arguments I almost always win. But this is not germane to the discussion.

In the immortal words of that great American writer, Kurt Vonnegut, in his beloved "Cat's Cradle", in his inimitable style, (try saying inimitable before your first cup of coffee...) Vonnegut writes:

"We do doodily do,
What we must, muddily must,
Muddily do, muddily do,
Till we bust, bodily bust."

Bachelors bust early. Bachelors die young.