A husband is like a chair. The only way to be certain that it’s exclusively yours is to sit in it …perpetually!
I mean you can cherish your chair – love it with all your heart – but if you leave it unattended it has the potential of being noticed by those that are standing.
And you have no way of knowing – absolutely no way of knowing – what’s happening to your chair unless you have your butt firmly planted in it.
So you use your hard earned money and buy yourself a good chair or you can acquire yourself a husband (by whatever means or currency used to ‘purchase’ husbands).
Hell you even have a certified receipt (or marriage certificate) with your name boldly written on it clearly stating that you own this chair (or that this fellow is your legal matrimonial ‘property’) – you still have no way of knowing who’s gonna decide to just sit in your chair (or have a roll in the hay with that husband of yours).
Really, husbands remind me of chairs. If they’re left empty those who are standing don’t mind taking a seat. No, not at all.
Even if you put a big sign written, RESERVED, some disrespecting “freelancer” is going to decide – she’s been standing too long… can’t wait to get a chair of her own… her back hurts from all the standing…and her feet are killing her so… f**k the sign…she’s gonna sit her arse down! (Excuse my French).
But husbands are not chairs to be owned. I think husbands are companions not property.
Husbands are not things you stake a claim on – like a chair. I think they are more like companions you choose to invite along on a journey you prefer not to travel alone.
There’s nothing to say, you won’t reach your destination if you go without one.
There’s nothing to say you cannot make the journey alone.
There’s even nothing to suggest that the texture of the journey will be enhanced; the loneliness lessened or the experience more enriched in the sharing – it’s just that many prefer to travel with them.
Husbands are not owned like chairs; they are companions choosing daily to walk in step with you and sometimes they may decide they’ve got better places to be than walking along life’s path in your company!
Maybe chairs are even better than husbands, you may insure them and if they get stolen or damaged – you might get a brand new replacement.
But who is to say that when you have this brand new replacement chair; some greedy “sister” (who has her own shabby chair at home) is not going to covet what is yours and decide that your replacement chair was designed with her own butt cheeks in mind?
In the end, shouldn’t you have a clear understanding of the things you can claim to own?
Things like your dreams and your hopes?
Things like your strengths and the quirky imperfections that make you an interesting human being?
Things like your smile, your laughter and even your tears?
Things like your body, your heart and the integrity of your soul? Things like your memories – shared with friends or with companions – always made in moments of love, light and laughter?
I suppose I could be wrong, perhaps a husband isn’t that similar to a chair; he is not something to be ‘owned’ or something you bind to yourself with excessive sentiment.
If you must own anything – perhaps you might like to start by owning yourself?