{{PD-1923}}
"Mawwiage. Mawwiage is what bwings us togevah to day. Mawwiage, that bwessed awangement, that dweam wivvin a dweam. And wuv, twoo wuv, wiw fowwow you fowevah and evah. So tweasuwe youw wuv."
Remember that marvelously memorable quote? It's from "The Princess Bride," and was given by the Impressive Clergyman. It is wonderful in its complete cluelessness–as it comes when Buttercup is being forced to marry Prince Humperdinck, even though she is in love with the Dread Pirate Robert, a.k.a. Farmboy. Despite her clearly being held against her will, Mr. Impressive lisps along as though love, in its tender young bud of spring-ness stands before him. Such a great scene.
So. I've been married for 25 years. Celebrated that landmark in Ireland on April 25th of this year. Prrreettty awesome. However, there are days that I am quite sure I am not "tweasuwed"–mostly because I'm not "tweasuwable." I don't know if it is the menopause that is looming in my pituitary gland, or if it just turns out that I have a whole lot more Humperdinck in me than Buttercup. But as I look back at the broad expanse of those 25 years, I see far too many appearances of the Prince or the Assistant Brute and not nearly enough of the Princess.
I was chatting with a friend the other day about an experience I had taking a group of teenagers to play laser tag. Apparently I have watched way too much NCIS, because I kept trying to shoot people in the head. You don't win in laser tag shooting people in the head. You just end up getting shot. I joked with my friend that I wouldn't be very good in special forces. He joked back that he kind of thought of me as being almost completely offense, and very little defense.
Hmmm.
That was kind of right on the nose.
Maybe this is why I'm more Brute (forget the Assistant) than I am Buttercup. I've had enough experiences in my life that put me into the fetal position that I'm pretty much done with that. I don't lay there and get fired on anymore. I don't stand there and let Elmer Fudd-esque priests marry me to the wrong guy. I made DANG sure my husband was the right dude for me before I married him. Vetted him completely. At least as much as I could in my naive pre-marital state.
I realized, while pondering this movie along with what my friend said, that I shoot first, ask questions later, and take no prisoners. And I'll probably slap you with a wet noodle for good measure.
That works great for Black Ops. Not so much in human relationships.
I am hoping there is a softer me hiding somewhere behind all of my hormones and severe lack of flight-instinct. It would probably be a good idea to find it. And then wuv, twoo wuv wiw spwing etewnal and fiwwed with joy.
Might be boring, but if I do find my inner Buttercup, there will definitely be some relief around these parts. Plus a little outright shock. 🙂
I don’t know. I sometimes wish I had more fight and less flight in me. Buttercup is beautiful and all – I mean, I’m totally jealous of her hair – but she’s kind of a sap. Aside from her “you cannot break it with a thousands swords” speech, she mostly just sits around and waits to be rescued. I think I’d rather be like the chick who shoots first and takes no prisoners. But that’s just me.
That’s true. She is a bit of a sap. She got kind of strong with “You mock my pain!” though. In any case, I think balance is the word I’m looking for in life: knowing when to fight and when to flight. Flee. Or as Kenny Rogers said: “Know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em.”
Oh, come on ladies. Robin Wright Penn can do NO wrong.
Ah, I did not take you for a Wright-o-phile. 😉
Well, except for that whole marrying Sean Penn thing . . .