Blissfully Unaware of my Peril
Perhaps Kyso Kisaen will be a bloggy guide and muse through the Rite of Femminess otherwise known as getting hitched; she seems to have her priorities straight:
I already know shit like “less booze = less money” or “borrow stuff or make it, teehee!” Any dumbass knows that skipping a 4-tier cake-orgy in favor of a simpler cake is a cost-saver.
What I need to know is stuff like “How sanitary would it be to have an ice sculpture the guests can do shots from?” or “Do I need to get separate insurance against the damage my drunken guests will assuredly do to your building?”
So on the strength of her review I grabbed a copy of Wifework: What Marriage Really Means for Women from the library today.
I’ve just finished reading the introduction; it’s all well and good, standard breathless exposition about how married men are generally better off than married women and that couldn’t have anything to do with sexism, could it? Gasp! But in the middle, Maushart throws in a completely gratuitous paean to evolutionary psychology:
Imagine a female examining her newly born baby in an effort to determine if he is ‘really hers’. Sexual exclusivity remains at the core of marriage not because men necessarily wish to repress women, but because they wish to know who their children are. The control of women’s sexuality is simply a by-product of this wish – a bonus, if you will.
The monogamy gamble pays particular dividends to non-dominant males who, under a more laissez-faire mating system, might never get the chance to breed at all. Females, for their part, sacrifice variety and freedom of choice for the protection of a male against other males.
If I only had a convenient generator, the power generated by my eyeballs rolling at that one would be enough to run a nice research outpost in Tanzania for a week. Fortunately, she stops with the handwavy chimpanzees after that and moves on to observations of actual people, about which she (and I) will hopefully have more to say.