My Marriage Proposal

I’m generally low maintenance, but the same cannot be said for my house.

As any homeowner can attest, the things that need to be done around a house are not only numerous, but often never-ending. And unless you enjoy changing air filters, scrubbing out the shower or replacing the rain gutters, these tasks are not something one often looks forward to doing.

Side note: While I do love cleaning and have an unnatural affinity for my Swiffer Wet Jet and ‘Ove’Glove—best thing ever—this love does not extend to various other jobs that require my attention, or more accurately, require me to ignore because I have no clue how to do them.

Because I’m single, I either have to figure out how to put the screen doors in and replace (insert random odd thing you didn’t even know existed until it broke) myself, or bribe someone to do it with beer or brownies.

I’m lucky that my family lives close by because they help with odds and ends, but I have to admit there are times when I think it would be nice to have a man around to fix a thing or two, change the oil in my Blazer and possibly help with the bills. Don’t get me wrong in that I work hard, have no problem working hard and am proud of everything I have, but not thinking about these annoying tasks would be great.

So I think I have found the perfect solution–I have decided I want to be a Trophy Wife. Well, I should rephrase that to be a bit more accurate:

I have decided I want to be a Consolation Prize Wife.

A Consolation Prize Wife is like a Trophy Wife, but actually way cooler because she requires less maintenance.

The typical Trophy Wife is young and married to an older powerful man—the Sugar Daddy— and serves as a visual status symbol of his success.  She’s basically arm candy.

I’m not quite as young or as hot and probably come with more issues, but I’m not quite yet 30 and despite being skinny with no boobs, I can clean up nice. So even though I missed my chance to land a Sugar Daddy with one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel, I’m thinking I might be able to swing the alternative here.

The Consolation Prize Wife

As a Consolation Prize Wife, I would still marry a powerful man and serve as a visual (or vocal, more likely) status symbol of his humble success (like I said, I  make a great party date.) He wouldn’t be old, but would still have money so that I could be a stay-at-home-mom minus the kids, do yoga to stay in physical and emotional shape, write an engaging and witty blog and oversee the management of our animal rescue center.

I would be required to get dressed up and attend various social events with him, tell him he’s cool and frequent the Farmers Market on a weekly basis for the things I would learn how to cook.  In return, he would be required to be handy around the house, request no emotional attachment or sexual interest unless provoked (by me) and have a Canadian accent.

And we would have separate beds, as I love to sleep much more than I love to spoon.

This way my grass would get cut, I could write and be my own boss, consider it a professional obligation to clean everything all the time and keep myself in shape. He would get to always have a witty plus-one for events, someone to keep things running smooth at home while he does the work thing and the freedom to never have to answer the questions “Why do you love me” or “What are you thinking about right now?”

Why?

Because I’m smart and fairly secure, so there’s no question about why he would love me. And second, I don’t really care what he’s thinking about right now unless it involves a) cleaning the gutters, b) urging me in his Canadian accent to go write or c) my next feeding.

After all, just because a house is high maintenance doesn’t mean I have to be. And as a Consolation Prize Wife, I will make it my duty to remain that way until death do us part, at which time I will be back to where I started from.

Which will be, most likely, Home Depot.