Friday, July 27, 2012

The Decider


Sometimes I think I am indecisive.  And then I think, nah.  Then I think, “Hey, I wonder if this Chinese in the fridge is still edible?”

“Here, babe, what do you think?  Can I eat this?”

The answer is regularly no, it is not edible, and I should take it outside right away.

Later on in the day I might shout from the couch, “Hey, Honey, what am I going to do?”    

“Today? Or Forever?” She might clarify. 

“I don’t know.  Maybe today?”

Usually, a response comes. But recently, doubts have been creeping into her answers.  She is less definitive.   Questions are sometimes met with questions; sometimes answers are met with questions; sometimes my silence is met with questions.  Or, sometimes she just pokes my head with a stick.

Perhaps I have evolved.  Like a student approaching calculus, perhaps I am becoming more sophisticated than what the keeper can answer.    While pondering the aforementioned thought, I was struck by a both a stick and a thought.  Like two atoms colliding, the smack left behind a radical solution to one of life’s riddles, and a welt.   

We, as a couple, needed a third.  We needed a decider. 

The decider can be anyone who, under normal circumstances, would never be part of a relationship.  Essentially, one’s disability can be put to use for once.  Autism, poor hygiene, physical handicaps,  homelessness or criminal records, all of which are barriers that ordinarily would prevent one from coupling, can now be utilized by normal people who are a couple.  The decider can finally be part of a couple.

How do you choose a good decider?  Well, in my experience, perhaps it is more appropriate to say, “You do not so much choose a decider as a decider chooses you.”  This addition to the coupling process occurs at something called “meetings”, which are great spectacles, like circuses from the 1920s.  The deciders are kept in their cages or pens by handlers, and couples get to wander around, holding hands.  It can even be a date. 
“Oh, look honey, that one looks interesting.  Can we get him?”

“I don’t know.  He looks a little unstable.  Can we please see his teeth?”  The handler will rattle the decider’s cage with a nightstick, prying open their mouth in some disparaging fashion.  However, this is the opportunity for the decider to do their thing.  A special trick, or a song, or perhaps a simple yet decisive stare that says, “You really need me.”

The decider is great for passive aggressive couples who never make a decision.  We bring ours everywhere.  What movie will you and your honey bunch watch? Boom!  The decider chooses Batman (again).  Do we want desert?  Quick-Smart: The decider has already ordered!  Should we have kids?  Bam!  Twins are on the way.  Our shifty little guy already has me investing heavily into accounts overseas for retirement.  I don’t do anything, just turn my finances over to him.  Apparently, I’m going to retire quite wealthy.

Better than a robot, better than an app, better than an old-fashioned algorithm consisting of complex mathematical equations.  Is a decider absolutely necessary?   Mine says yes.

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