Some of you may know of my old blog A Martian in London, which amongst other things, chronicled my search for a suitable female Number One to help me find my spaceship, all-female crew, and eventual rightful claim to the Galaxy.
My research involved more than a few Earth Females and for the benefit of all mankind I summed it up in a couple of politically incorrect but accurate charts (click on the image for a larger, more legible version):
The chart above shows the sad but almost invariable law of Hotness vs. Sanity Level, which as any experienced scientific researcher of the female form will know, is a tragically inverse relationship.
That little sanity problem did indeed seem to be a bit of an impasse. Until Redhead girl that is.
You may also know that it is now a few weeks away from being 2 years that I have been with Redhead Girl.
In dog years, that’s 14 years, so I think you can all applaud me now. The reality though, despite what a few dozen women out there may think, is that we Martians are really basically monogamous in spirit. In body of course it can be quite another thing, but let us not get lost in such quibbles. Now it needs to be said that Redhead Girl has occupied me so exclusively because she has all the qualities of the Ideal Woman, something I also blogged about before in some detail, and then a few more.
It is time to unveil some of her more endearing qualities (beside the obvious ones, I mean, you degenerates):
- She reads maps better than me (I had never even met a MAN that could do this, never mind a woman, This was my first clue that she might not have been an Earthling)
- She has a geeky side I find quite irresistible. She will chart out things like electricity consumption and travel expenses
- Possibly as a result of that same slightly OCD geekyness, she is about 17 levels of magnitude better than me with money. Not necessarily making it, at which I am not really a slouch, but managing it. My attitude to money has always been pretty much that when I need some I’ll just make more. Saving is what some guy called Jesus does apparently. Well, Redhead Girl has measurably improved my quality of life using a lot less money that I used to. This translates to more time for me, so it’s not a small thing she has done. Who the hell produces more time for you? It’s like magic.
- She is actually smarter than me in a lot of ways. This too is a shock. My usual contempt for the average human intellect is pretty well documented through several star systems I am sure. I have occasionally found some very smart humans, but they tend to be one-dimensional. Something one could never accuse Redhead Girl of being. If anything she inhabits several more dimensions than the rest of us, most of the time.
- She has an intuitive sense of what is important that is very well attuned to my own, even if quite different.
But above all dear readers, she actually manages to put up with me. Now, we Martians are sort of known for our general tendency to shoot everything and everyone first, and then not bother with any questions at all. Patience to us is a disease exhibited by the slow-witted and the general rule is to run towards any oncoming locomotives. Now, despite my obvious good looks, intelligence, myriad outstanding good qualities, and discreet modesty, it can be hard to keep up with such a mild-mannered fellow such as myself.
Redhead Girl actually not only manages to do so, but she more than once in a while, steers me away from oncoming trains, belligerent mobs of Earthlings armed with torches and other such inconveniences I would otherwise tend to find myself neck-deep in.
But let me illustrate with a few pictures why she’s one of a kind. As you know I have been quite the cripple for the last two months or so, having undergone surgery for a completely ruptured Achilles tendon. Throughout this time, Redhead Girl did pretty much EVERYTHING. She cooked, served me, helped me get washed, helped make sure I ate properly, slept properly, remained sane and generally was a saint.
What’s more, a few weeks ago I had another birthday, to which some 20 or so close friends came along, to join me for some food and drinks at a local Carluccio’s. If you know this chain, you know it’s always pretty full.
Now it needs to be said that because of all her hard work looking after me, I had bought Redhead Girl an item of apparel, which I thought would be mostly for my pleasure really more than hers. But I was wrong. Not only did she like it and wear it right away at home, but she went on to wear it for the birthday as well. To the pleasure of most of my male friends, some of my female friends too, and not a few of the male restaurant patrons, some of which came to congratulate “us”. I am sure it was my shiny bald head that attracted them really.
And if that were not reason enough to get married to her, let me tell you one more thing. She doesn’t just look after me when I am a cripple. She also brings me ice-lollies.
So yes. I asked her to marry me a while back, and she said yes. And true to my word for those of you that know me from the Vox days, since I couldn’t get the Naked Cowboy guy we met in Ireland to marry us (yes he is a minister and does marry people) there will not be any kind of priest/legal guy/human representative to to the ceremony.
This may seem strange to you, but my only requirement for the wedding was that it be memorable, and that it involved no other human telling us that “by the powers vested in him/the state/the church/whatever” he would now pronounce us married.
As far as I am concerned, the totality of the human law and human religion part of marriage, can kiss my ass. The way I see it, the only humans that can say, choose or decide anything about a specific wedding are the two people actually getting married. Of course, on just about this entire planet, you will however be subjected to that sentence: “By the powers vested in me…”. As well as possibly some kind of sermon prior to it. I know I have witnessed at least one such horrific interference from a minister prior to his doing the actual wedding of a friend of mine; actually going so far as to warn the couple in question that they would not be able to back out later if they changed their mind!
Now it is true that if you were to strangle the priest at your own wedding it would certainly make it memorable, but that wasn’t quite the look I was going for. And as providence would have it…we have found just the way to do that. Brazil allows people to get married by post using other people to actually submit the paperwork for you via a power of attorney. It’s a bit bureaucratic and time-consuming, but it suits us just fine.
We have booked out a whole small hotel for a full week-end, just for our close family and a few friends who can actually make it all the way there, and this December we’re getting married in Brazil on the beach.
We plan to have no boring speeches, lots of food, dancing, snorkelling, scuba diving, a live sax player and a boat to put everyone on and island hop or at least get everyone sea-sick. It will be memorable and possibly technicoloured too!
So wish us well and if you should feel the urge, be sure to send cash, gold or platinum. We are simple that way and haven’t really got a complicated gift list.
