When someone tells me that they are expecting a child, I greet the news with vigorous enthusiasm, complete with back slapping-if it’s a guy breaking the news, of course-and gushing promises of how wonderful the experience will be. In fact, I cannot stop myself from talking, and almost always will find myself trying to stop the mouth from running on any longer. I just respond to the news with real emotion and good wishes. I can’t help myself.

My reaction is very different when someone tells me that he or she is getting married.

When I find out nuptials are coming, another reaction kicks in-which I have less success in stifling than my pro-baby stance. It is akin to the warning you might deliver if someone told you they were buying a house near Chernobyl because the land was cheap, or they planned on trying to fly from the Brooklyn Bridge. Maybe they plan on drinking bleach, and wanted to run it by someone who would offer sage advice, which would be to NOT drink bleach. Do you see where this is going?

Last week, while surf fishing in Atlantic Beach, I saw a happy couple on the sand taking their wedding photos. I used restraint and did not yell warnings tantamount to “Shark!” or “Fire!”

I know, I am being unfair. I am projecting my feelings onto others, and it is selfish. But I keep thinking if I can save just one guy-just one-I could be like the Mother Teresa of love. And think of it this way, too: Maybe I’m doing the woman a favor if I change a guy’s mind. Maybe he’s the jerk, and she needs the out, you know? Once a couple is engaged, the ball starts rolling down the hill fast, and the speed can impede people from making tough decisions. Suddenly, the big day arrives. You gotta hope for the best.

I knew a guy who did not heed my warning. At first I thought it was he who was making the mistake, but in retrospect I think it might be the bride. They are not married very long, and most couples can ride the wave for a few months before reality comes into focus. She may wake up. But that remains to be seen. Point is, if I had been able to convince him to think twice, someone would be better off.

Years ago a friend of mine got married. I was still young, I guess about 22 or so, and he was only a year older. We all went to the wedding, had a great time. He and his bride had been together since they were in their early teens. The next week, when they got back from their honeymoon, the gang got together. I asked him how the week went and he pulled me aside and said, “Dude, I don’t know who I married.” This was eight days after the wedding. Ouch. They were divorced within one year.

I liked being married. I really did. The things I missed about being single are fleeting and universal, spanning both sexes. None of it had to do with wanting to be with other women, either. I know this all sounds terribly sour and fatalistic. It’s not right for me to react the way I do, because I don’t know anything about other people’s relationships. Generalizations are like stereotypes, and most are hurtful and can get you in trouble. A lot of them are true, too.

My soapbox is growing weak, the wooden planks buckling under the tremendous weight I insist on carrying. I cannot tell you that I will never marry again. That would be stupid. But I am growing weary of my own speeches, especially because nobody is going to listen, anyway.

You know, when Chief Brody insisted on closing the beaches in Jaws, the mayor ignored his warnings. And what happened? Little Alex Kitner got swallowed by the shark. So, ladies and gentlemen, if you want to go swimming, I guess I can’t stop you.

But make sure you check the water before you jump in.

E-mail Michael Martino at mmartino@longislandpress.com.