Last night I saw on Twitter that Kim Kardashian is finally engaged. Not finally because she had been dating Kris Humphries long enough to not even bother thinking about marriage anymore, but finally because she had been dying to get married since the days of one Reggie Bush. This violent desire, further fueled by her sister Khloé’s wedding back in 2009 and her other sister Kourtney’s gun-jumping journey into motherhood, was finally put to rest by a 20.5-carat weapon and some shredded roses.
I have nothing (much) against Kim Kardashian. I think she is immensely good-looking and is fat and skinny in all the right places, if just a bit vertically-challenged. I think she has done extremely well in marketing herself and her family as a single, cohesive (and vaguely tacky) brand. And I think she is one of those few women who can channel the stupid, hopeless romantic and still get away with it, because people tend to forget most things just by looking at her face (or other body parts).
But because I have lost all track of time since this year started, it never dawned on me just how long she had been seeing Kris Humphries until the engagement announcement unleashed itself upon the world. And until said announcement raped everyone’s Twitter timelines, I never realized just how not long she had been with him compared to how long she stayed with Reggie Bush: five (5/FIVE!) months.
I suppose by Kardashian standards that can be considered long. After all, Khloé married Lamar Odom quickly enough to dissolve any memories of her dating him at all. But my grasp on how some people are able to tell practically on the spot that they want to spend the rest of their living moments with someone is similar to my grasp on how women can be so stupid as to waste money on as many as three wedding receptions: absolutely nonexistent. Dating appears to have become overrated, so the traditional (and in many cases, prerequisite) period of at least 2 years of dating has been cast aside in exchange for a period of, say, four (4/FOUR!) months. These days, it feels as though women (and even men) are all on a giant race to the altar — and to see who can pull off the most tasteless, ostentatious wedding.
Even if it is their third marriage.
So good luck to you, Kimmy. May you be the second (your sister being the first) person I’ve heard of to have a lasting marriage that came off a barely-there relationship. If nothing else, you could take out a few eyes with that diamond of yours.