T. GAMBLE: Eternal love only lasts so long

I have at least one thing on my mind these days, which is one more than I usually have. As always, my world is now totally and completely absorbed by Facebook. I cannot go more than 30 minutes without posting witty sayings that only I can understand and reading about everyone else.

I now know more about the average person on my friend list than I know about myself.

One thing I see from time to time is the notification of the death of a beloved pet. I, myself, have posted when a part of my furry family passed, so I certainly understand the need to let others know of the loss. Back before social media, I doubt more than 10 or 15 people knew the name of my dog or cared one bit if he died. But today, if my dog dies, 200 people will share in the loss, and I believe I could get up 30 or 40 to attend a service if I decided to have one.

I especially see very emotional posts from women when this part of the family has died. And this makes me wish to issue a warning to all you menfolk out there. She does not need you nearly as much as you think she does.

You see, Bonnie will post about the love of her life passing after 15 great years. I know plenty of people who have been married 50 years and don’t have 15 good years to show for it, but that is another story for another day. She’ll bemoan the loss and all it encompasses. Then, 30 days later what do we see? Here’s Bonnie with her new bouncing puppy or maybe an older “rescue” dog; God knows nothing is better than a rescue dog with a good story behind him.

Bonnie can tell everyone about how the rescue dog was abused and neglected and never fed Alpo, until she came along and now, eternal, forever bliss.

Now, what does this mean? Well, gentlemen, it means Bonnie can find a replacement for the love of her life that gave her 15 straight good years, in 30 days. She can replace you quicker.

You probably haven’t given her 15 straight good years. She probably didn’t rescue you from the pits of hell … maybe from a bar stool somewhere, but not the pits of hell. So, as you sport around in that fancy new Cadillac, remember once you are gone some rescue guy will probably be sporting around in your Cadillac, in your bed, while Bonnie tells everyone about how she rescued her new love.

There actually is nothing better than a rescued man to the female mind. It is much better to marry someone who is the biggest loser ever only to be redeemed, modified, rebuilt and salvaged by the faithful spouse who was the only one in 17 counties to recognize her man could one day be somebody. And, if she is wrong, and he is not redeemable, well then she’ll just get another one. In 30 days or less.

Email T. Gamble at [email protected].