A pet peeve of mine has always been idiots at church who “console” me with disgusting tales of some octogenarian, doddering, spinster great aunt who married “for the very first time!” at 82.
A comment that always comes to my mind is, “Why?”
Another question is, “What kind of man would want a disgusting old hag for his wife?” Women are a lot prettier at 22 than 82, in case you hadn’t noticed. Why would some guy marry a decrepit old crone when she couldn’t get anyone when her charms were at their peak?
My guess is the guy is probably in horrible health and impotent. Love plays no role at all. He gets a “nurse with a purse” and Ugly Aunt Haggatha gets the status of a wedding band so the old spite-cats at church will quit mocking her.
There are three reasons to marry. They are as follows:
- It’s better to marry than to burn. If Aunt Haggatha has been able to endure the burning for 70 years, is she going to succumb to unchastity at death’s door? Not likely.
- Procreation. How many children will Uncle Dudley (Dud for short) and Aunt Haggatha have at age 91 and 82?
- Utilitarian yet spiritual marriages. Missionary partners or other evangelism teams. At 82 and 91 Aunt Haggatha and Uncle Dud aren’t likely to do missions work or much of anything. But die.
A lot of widowed or divorced preachers remarry late in life simply because they aren’t ready to retire. (Churches never hire single men–the Apostle Paul isn’t good enough for their conformist mentality.) The widowers’ hearts will always belong completely to their dead wives. Nevertheless a warm body in bed, massages for their rapidly deteriorating bodies, good food, and a gracious hostess make a marriage of convenience ideal.
That still does not explain why Aunt Haggatha agreed to marry Uncle Dud. My guess is to shut up the catty, smug matrons who have been putting her down wedding after wedding. Mother’s Day after Mother’s Day. Valentine’s Day after Valentine’s Day.
But guess what? They still will be spiteful and cruel to Aunt Haggatha. She can never “catch up.” They will always have their 50th anniversaries and decades of memories in the arms of Mr. Right, their children, grandchildren, etc. The cheerleaders who married between 18 and 22 will never accept a withered skeleton (who is finally “lucky” enough to land a marriage of convenience to a widower incapable of loving her.)
The matrons will always despise her; she still won’t fit in. The sex will be non-existent or torturous. Late in life loss of virginity is never a good thing.
How is six months of an outward form of marriage with a senile old geezer she can never love or even like supposed to compensate for over 60 years of crushing loneliness? Answer: it can’t.
At 44 my heart is dead and I no longer desire men. Too old for kids. If I met a nice guy tomorrow it would be too late. And frankly, God’s not cruel enough to play that kind of joke on me. Too old for love.