Marriage is a concept familiar only to humans. Even animals that mate for life don’t marry. Most humans, on the other hand, grow up with the expectation that they will someday find that special someone and get married.
Perhaps they have an innate need to feel complete. Maybe they desperately want to have a family. They might just need a new microwave. No matter the reason, marriage is on the minds of many single people.
Unfortunately, about half of all marriages end in divorce these days. And it doesn’t even seem to matter what religion, or lack thereof, one may practice. The divorce rate within the Christian church is approximately equal to that in the secular world.
But what is it about humans that drives us to seek out a single mate and vow to spend the rest of our natural life with them?
I could speculate an answer to this and I might actually get it right but I’m not going to. Instead, I’m going to look at the astronomical odds of finding a spouse. First, lets see a few statistics with which we can have a valid comparison.
- The odds of being struck by lighting are about one in a million.
- The odds of dying in a car accident are about one in 113.
- The odds of becoming a U.S. millionaire are about one in 106.
- The odds of winning the lottery is one in fourteen million.
But the odds of finding a spouse somewhere on this planet are an astounding one in 3.5 billion!
Out of the 3.5 billion women on this planet (give or take a few million), I found one. A single person out of 3.5 billion!
Even if you limit your spousal search to only the population of the U.S. the odds are still one in about 150 million.
Just ruminate on that figure for a moment. Each married person picked a single other individual and decided that would be the one person with whom they would share the entire rest of their life.
This obviously has to be a very special person.
- When I stumble and fall, she has to be the first to help me up again.
- When I make a bad choice, she has to be the first to console me and then say, “I told you so.”
- When I can’t figure out what shoes to wear, she has to be the one that tells me it doesn’t really matter because no one will notice anyway.
- When I lose the remote, she has to be the one that stops what she’s doing to help me look for it.
- When I load the dishwasher, she has to be the one that empties it and loads it the “right” way.
She had to be in the right spot at the right time, she had to be interested in me (a miracle in itself), and she had to be willing to look past how stupid I can be sometimes. She had to be willing to spend a few really crappy years as a new wife while I slowly and painfully learned how not to be a husband.
We’ve been through a lot in the last seventeen years… lots of good and more bad than we’d like. But we’ve been through it all together and we’re better off for it. She’s my one in 3.5 billion and she’s all mine.
Now, a lot of people ask me how we’ve managed to make it to seventeen years. I usually answer honestly…
I have no idea.
I have no idea what I do that makes her stick around. Although, I’m positive I don’t deserve such amazing treatment.
If I ever figure it out, I could be a millionaire. All I know is that I have a wife that must be a saint to continually forgive me for all the stupid things I do.
I’m not really sure what I’d do without her. Sure, I might own a few more guns and a couple more motorcycles, but I would be on a steady diet of ramen noodles and generic Kool-Aid drinks. I would probably never have clean, well, anything and I would definitely be totally broke.
Even though half of all marriages end in divorce, I am determined to make sure ours isn’t one of them. In fact, if she ever decides to leave me, I’m going with her.