I share the common misperception of bachelors as slobs (and considering my late second husband, who was a 45-year-old lifelong bachelor when we met, I think I'm justified in holding that opinion). But I heard a speaker at a meeting a few weeks ago who made me think differently.
Well, ok, so most people dress their best to give a presentation. But this was beyond best. The knife-edge pleats in his trouser legs were making me nervous, they were so sharp. And the thought occurred to me; he's got to be single.
Because only someone single, with only themselves and their own appearance to consider, could look that sharp! A married man might have had wrinkled trousers from holding his son or daughter on his lap, or masticated cookie smeared along his sleeve. The more I thought about this, the more I conceived the notion that family life is like a washer in a laundromat, where we bump and jostle against each other, and where love wears our sharp edges smooth and a little frayed. A laundromat that removes our starch, adds some interesting stains, and bleaches us until we're soft and worn, and we smell like love.
Nothing wrong with that.