Don't Dream It's Over

OK Ya’ll,
So I did a quiz on Facebook today that was pretty interesting. It wasn’t so much of a quiz as an extrapolation of my profile data compiled into a statistical representation of how lame my life is, but it was still interesting. This EPD said I had a 90% probability of getting married, which sounds pretty promising at first. But then I got to thinking about it, and a couple of things occurred to me.
1. There’s no time line on this probability, so I figured I’m basically starting at 90 and going downhill rapidly from there. I mean, probability generally decreases over time for these types of events, so if I’m at 90 now, then I can’t help but drop a few percentage points as time marches on. But then I had another thought—maybe my probability wouldn’t drop, because the divorce rate is such that if I wait long enough, I’ve got a shot at a few fellas that may be off the market now. So this could work for me or against me depending on the dissolution of the matrimonial bonds in my area. Let’s hope by the time the divorce rate has evened out my chances, Vince Vaughn is still single.
2. (or maybe one and a half) Since there is no timeline, I could be 70 before this marriage occurs. Not promising. My great aunt Mildred was well into her 50s before she got married FOR THE FIRST TIME. I don’t even want to know if she stuck to her guns and decided to save herself for consummation *shudder* but she did end up marrying her freshly widowed pastor, so who knows. Then again, if I marry someone when I’m 70, they’ll obviously have a fantastic personality because very few people look all that hot at 70 (except Sean Connery), and pretty much nobody is attractive from the neck down at 70. And I’ll probably have had enough stories about bumpin’ uglies by then to get me through the next 15 years or so ‘til I shuffle off this mortal coil, so the personality angle will be that much more of a joy to me in my advanced state. But watch out—if he’s anything like me, we’ll have a ball swindling all of our friends at bingo and shuffleboard after the ice cream social at 4:30.
3. There’s still a 10% probability that I won’t get married. I could end up being the fun, good-looking friend with a killer sense of humor who people secretly think is a lesbian because I’m still single at 95. At first glance it seems depressing, but sometimes I think it may not be so bad. A lot of people just get married to have kids, and since I don’t want any, I’ve got nothing but easy sailin’ ahead. I wouldn’t have to change anybody’s diapers, I wouldn’t have to worry about my husband passing away before me, I could collect as many cats as I want with no one thinking it odd, I wouldn’t have to cut any ingrates out of my will…the possibilities are endless. And hey, if things get too crazy, Congress will send me off to pasture with the warmest of shoves. So I’ll take your 10% and make the best of it. I just need to make sure I don’t marry plenty of wealthy benefactors who insist upon financing the living out of my remaining years in comfort.