The reappearance of Molly on the blog and her apparent whirlwind plunge into marriage and children has me thinking on behalf of y’all. She lacks the time, so maybe I should offer an explanation.
It was actually planned well in advance and prepared for. She learned about it from an early age from her mum, aunts, grandmums etc. She chatted about it with her cuzzies, including my sisters, who were on the same page so to speak.
Molly had a choice of men for marriage. This advantage of choice was earned not by her, but for her by her forebears who chose good looks in their mates. It was deliberate. If you’ve been handed an asset and the formula for passing it on, you might as well use it. You were taught it when you were a girl. Now you teach it to your own.
The lessons didn’t confine themselves to the physical. Warmth, humor, good manners and respect for men were a big part of it.
Most of molly’s education was at home. Because of her milieu she formed one goal: marriage and kids. Any other occupations were just means to that end.
She didn’t flaunt her assets in public. She liked the private life. The one time she wore a bikini I warned her against it. She crossed the street anyway, to the public beach. There was damned near a riot. I saw what was going on – heads turning and “Hey mate, get.a.piece.of.that!” Yeah! Wow! FWOAR! It was roars of approval, not insult, but she ran back over the street and never wore a bikini in public again.
She did as her elders did and kept her #N for the future husband and this is where, above all else (IMHO) the training pays off: they choose him well. They stay with him for life. They see the examples of this in their grandmothers and, because they have their children young, in their living great-grandmothers and others of that generation as well. They see these women live their lives as wives to the end, and they like what they see.
And of course, there’s the pressure of the clan’s own female group think. They call it vertical (down the generations) and would rather not break the tradition and lose the many advantages that come with the clan for themselves and their offspring.
Now some of you old hands might be thinking, hang on, Cill’s mum is from that clan. He’s a fucking skite. Well fair enough. To placate y’all I can assure you that inherited beauty is not evident in my face. “It looks like you ran it through a rock crusher”, one of my mates once informed me.
Anyway, these lessons were passed down from mothers to daughters, not sons. I had my dad for my role model and I’m not complaining. Molly is doing what she always wanted to do. She and her kind are rare as hens’ teeth, a disappearing breed in the general sense and a continuing one in the particular. I wish them well.