If I die young, I do not want Poor Kyle to remarry.

Yes, some wives do tell their husbands to remarry if the situation occurs. Some noble wives give their full blessing and support to their husbands’ remarriage. They’re sweet.

I’m not. I don’t want him to remarry–I would probably haunt him if he did. I am not an understanding wife like that.

Is this selfish? Of course it is; and it’s more than just a little bit selfish–it’s really selfish. And why shouldn’t I be selfish? Haven’t I got the right to be selfish when it comes to my eternal life? If I support Poor Kyle’s remarriage, and he does so in a Mormon temple (where it will be for time and eternity, just like with me), that means I would have to share him with some other home-wrecker woman…for forever.

And that is not a thought I relish.

Whenever we have this discussion, Poor Kyle brings up the point, “Don’t you want me to be happy? You can’t seriously expect me to live my entire life all alone, can you?”

Umm, Poor Kyle? Don’t you want me to be happy? Life is short–we hear it said all the time. Eternity, on the other hand…it never ends. You can’t seriously expect me to happily share you with some other hussy for eternity, can you?? Don’t you want me to be happy forever, even if it means a few short years (okay, a lifetime) of your own loneliness?

Please.

“What about our kids?” he goes on to ask. “What if you die and we have a couple kids already? How am I supposed to raise our children alone?”

Poor Kyle, this is a non-issue. Teachers these days do a wonderful job raising today’s children. And by law, Canadian kids must attend school–so let the teachers raise them! Arrange with your boss to go to work an hour early every day so you can get home by the time our kids do, and take over for the public educators (or private educators, if you do what I say and send our kids to French immersion school [another issue which might cause me to haunt you, by the way]).

Kids raised without mothers grow into strong and self-sufficient adults, anyway. Look at me–I have a wonderful mother who is still alive, and I’m the biggest wuss I know. My kids are better off without me.

“Well, if I die young, I definitely want you to remarry,” he gallantly remarks. “I don’t think anyone should have to be alone for their entire lives.”

Yes, you would want me to remarry–a fact I find infuriating, by the way. Do you have no sense of jealousy whatsoever? It’s a moot point, anyway. If Poor Kyle dies young, I’ll be sitting pretty. I’ll have my eternal salvation covered, I’ll have tried the whole consummation-of-the-relationship (and realised I can live without it), and I’ll have a life insurance policy payoff. Hello, world, meet your newest first-class traveller.

Not that I want my husband of six months to die young–I would be crushed, naturally.

But what kind of idiot would I be if I tried to find another man who could put up with the mess of me? I’d be better off just to wait out my life in Europe.

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