GET A LIFE

I went over to the local Wal Mart the other day to get a life.

Everyone keeps saying “Get a life” these days. They tell each other to get a life on TV, in movies, in commercials, and especially when they are disgusted with each other. So I figured, I would just go on over and get myself one.

The thing was, WalMart actually had several different lives for sale over on the Notions Aisle.

At the very front of the aisle I found Married Life, and just beyond it, Single Life.

They were both CDs I could easily run on my home pc, and the best part was, they had them on sale two for one. However, they warned me if I tried to run them both at the same time I might be in for some serious download problems.
So I took my two lives home, and checked them out.

I installed the Married Life first out of curiosity. Having been single for such a long time, I was naturally interested in what I had been missing.

The Married Life CD had a lot of really cool stuff on it.

It offered a very good looking opposite sex spouse of my choice (I had chosen Marriage, Traditional, not Marriage, Alternate) and I decided to name him Max, a solid name, a name with a future.

I could morph Max into any age, hair color, height or weight, but no matter what I did with him, he was always smiling, never complained, and always looked very attractive.
He dressed nice, too, kind of preppy in golf shirts and great fitting slacks with a v-neck sweater tied across his shoulders and unpretentious sunglasses. And I assumed he smelled good, although my pc doesn’t come equipped with that capability yet.

Max came equipped with an entire monologue that, in a nutshell, boiled down to the following phrases: “Yes honey, I agree, you’re certainly right. Gosh you look beautiful. Of course you don’t look fat. Can I give you a massage? I’m sorry you had a bad day. Come here and give me a smooch, you sexy thing. What do you want for dinner?”

Also in the Married, Traditional program was a bouquet of flowers of my choice from 1-800 –Flowers, a Kama Sutra book, a king size, heated water bed, two tickets to Sandal’s Couples Only Resort in the Caribbean, Max’s 401K plan (richly endowed), one 4-bedroom, 3 bath, 3800 square foot home exquisitely decorated with gourmet kitchen, two walk-in closets just for me, a private hot tub off the master bedroom, and a time-share in Aruba.

I selected the No Kids button, but I did opt for Grandkids. Hey, I could have it all without any of the aggravation. This was my life, after all. I decided I liked this Married Life a lot. Reluctantly I closed it and inserted the disk for the Single Life.

It contained a copy of “Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus,” coupons for one latte at my local Starbucks, an individual pizza from Pizza Hut and a map of all the straight singles bars within 10 miles of my house. (Remember, I chose Single, Traditional, not Single, Alternate.) It offered two potential dates, who promised they were sensitive and “authentic,” but they were both too short.

This Single Life CD didn’t impress me, so I took it back to the WalMart and complained that there seemed to be a lot more in the Married Life package.

The manager asked if I had chosen my CD from the Married- Life- Is- Better Preconceived Notions Aisle. I said I had no idea.

“Well,” said the manager, “these Get A Life programs are all set up to match your expectations. If you were divorced, say, and hated being married, you’d pick up a Single, Traditional program in the Single- Is- Better section. But you obviously think being married is great, so that’s the program you picked.”

Could I exchange my two CDs for the other two, in which single was better and married wasn’t so hot? I could.

Back home I came with my new lives, and popped in the Married CD. All it offered was a bald, tired-looking guy named Howard asking me where I had been and if I had taken out the garbage. Oh, and an appointment with a marriage counselor in my neighborhood.

But the Single CD Rom? Spectacular.

As soon as I opened it, the room was filled with upbeat Latin swing music. Dozens of incredibly good looking men, who could be adjusted to whatever specifications I desired, appeared on the screen. They all assured me that I was beautiful, desirable and interesting. They presented their credentials. All were well educated, emotionally and financially secure, and knew how to cook. I had my choice of any of them, and when I grew tired of one I could come back for my choice from an infinite variety.

When I felt tired, or irritable, or bloated, I pressed the “Not Tonight” feature and all of them disappeared from the screen. Up popped scruffy slippers, an extra large t-shirt, an old video of “Sleepless in Seattle” and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey super rich ice cream, spoon already inserted.

Single Life, Traditional, also came with standard features such as my choice of cat or dog, my choice of neighborhood, my choice of décor, my choice of the right or left side of the bed, my choice of vacation spots, and exclusive access to the TV Remote.

It also included a great group of girlfriends to hang out with, a job perfectly suited to my talents which I loved and could work late at with no apologies, and 139 pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes. Size 6, what else?

I really couldn’t make up my mind which life to get. So the other day I took both CD programs back to WalMart. They’re pretty good about refunds. I decided the life I already had was okay because, after all, it belonged to me, and I liked the idea that every day was a fresh new adventure and not pre-programmed. Que sera, sera, I told myself, and decided to stay away from the Preconceived Notions Aisle from now on.