Claire and I have made an interesting observation the other day: If it wasn't for modern medicine, we both would have died ten times over. Removing my bursting appendix had been a routine job even the janitor could have performed at the local hospital - but without the operation I'd be writing this blog as a zombie right now. Hmm... now that'd be kinda cool. But I digest.
Pneumonia. Had it three times, but modern antibiotics make the whole thing a lot less risky than it used to be. People used to die from that crap. Being the early bird that she is, Claire probably would have kicked the bucket right after birth.
It's amazing what science can do these days - need a hip replacement? No problemo! Heck, they're already working on robotic hand replacements! Not anywhere near as cool as the stuff you see in the Terminator movies, but we're getting there. They can now replace your damaged heart valve with one from a pig. Oink!
Having the possibility to get over ailments, which would have been crippling or even fatal not too long ago, it's perfectly normal to live for a hundred years and more. And that was absolutely unthinkable when marriage was invented. Statistically, every second marriage is doomed to fail nowadays. They didn't need a divorce back in the middle ages - till death do us part and all that.
Think about it. In those dark and dirty times, the plague, famines and shitty health insurance would make sure that either you or your significant other wouldn't make it past your late thirties. Imagine a guy taking a massive dump in a river. Explosive diarrhea. You're one mile down that river, drinking from it, because you're in the middle ages, your sink is clogged and they haven't invented plumbers, yet. That's how sanitary those times were.
And if you really needed a break from your wife, you could always hang out with the boys on a crusade or accuse the missus of witchcraft and enjoy one final barbecue together. Beats losing 50% of your stuff after going through a divorce.
Today our water is filtered, witches are now cool with all the goth kids and there's a pretty good chance that most of us are gonna live twice, maybe three times as long as those lucky people back in the middle ages. And that can be stressful on any relationship.
Picture a pair of soggy, 60 year old tits. Now add another ten years. And another. And so on. You can see where I'm going with this. Even with modern boner pills, you had better be mad in love with your significant other - or sport some incredibly powerful imagination. And if you're male - look at your scrotum. Do it right now. Count the wrinkles all over it. The thing looks what, 50, 60 years old, even when you're only 20? Now add another 50 years to that!
Now imagine waking up next to Lady Wobbletits or Captain Leathersac every single day. For the rest of your life. If you can honestly say that you don't mind and you're just as much in love as ever, then you're either delusional or a really, really lucky bastard. In every other case, you're screwed - if you're drooling over a perky 20 year old and your wang is still as al dente as Silvio Berlusconi's, there is no way in hell she'd ever make out with an old fart like you. Unless you're in fact Silvio Berlusconi. Money and power seem to help counter the nasty side effects of aging.
So what are you gonna do after an argument with your partner, when you're both old and your skin has turned to man-jerky? Make-up Scrabble? Whatever it is, judging by the way my grandparents treat each other, it can't be very fun. The two loathe one another. But they're firm catholics - and as such, you don't get a divorce. EVER!
It makes me wonder. Will Claire and I still find each other sexy, 50 years from now, when my nuts dangle around my ankles and her nipples will touch her knees? Scary thought. I'm almost happy that KFC, my job and my ex wife will make sure I'll never live long enough to find out.
-Cat
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