Christian Marriage being now nearly eclipsed, it seems useful to answer some prevailing errors of the Chichi Neoterics.
If you have sat through the reception after a wedding, you will likely have heard the popular bit of advice: Don't Go To Bed Angry.
This undercuts the singular attribute of Christian Marriage, namely, that she will still be there in the morning. I say, leave settling fights at three o'clock in the morning to the blighted pagans and corrupted heretics with their modern, transient mock-marriages. Get your rest.
Another bit of newfangled poppycock has it that spouses ought to keep alight the flame of romance, or some such rubbish talk.
Do not suppose for a moment that I take issue with chocolates or flowers or frilly underthings. On the contrary, but were it set upon flirtation and infatuation marriage could only be a flimsy thing. Though nothing would please the moderns more, a man might so marry a half-dozen women before noon, starting with the comely coffee girl at a little before eight.
And it is a faithless wretch who supposes God had not the matter in hand when He decreed that the ravages of age should not begin in earnest before the foolish fancies of youth had been forgotten.
Imagine if you will the terrifying predicament of an octogenarian afraid to fart in the presence of his trembling bride.
The august dignity of age will not bear these things and yet the modern-marriageists will not leave us to rock, side-by-side on the front porches of our venerable years. They prefer a future of hoary elders gripping blue pills and lining up, sweaty palmed, to hit on the coffee girl.
Good people must not participate. Strike a blow for Christian Marriage: fart loudly before going to bed angry.