I turn in the new book in on October 9th. It is finished, by which I mean, I have a DRAFT, but I am obsessively revising it. It is a love story. It is Someone Else’s Love Story, specifically. It is about mortality and marriage and miracles and other things that do not start with an M, so they can’t be in this sentence.
I am working like a crazy person, which I think is actually required by law if you decide to write a love story.
PLUS, beloveds, the PB of A GROWN-UP KIND OF PRETTY comes out on September 26th, so I am doing some travel and promo for that. You should get one. Heck, no, you should get TWO, they are small.
Yeah, this is real people. This is happening. I look at this and I think, “and if the marriage doesn’t work out, you have already purchased the solution!” A terribad cross-promo, really.
I went to a wedding on Saturday, as Karen Abbott’s plus one. They were so pretty and young and in love with each other—-you should have seen their faces. I doubt they will need the gun. I was so grinny from watching them promise things that my face hurt.
I think human brain has a built in ap that responds to ritual. You don’t have to SAY YES TO THE DRESS and mortgage a kidney on the wedding….that crap is all fluff and commerce.
What matters is giving love the respect—- offering it the ritual. Gather family and your friends. Invoke your belief system. Make solemn promises in front of everyone you love and ask them to help you keep them.
This is the part that matters.
Another part that really, really matters: Don’t bring a gun.
You know why? ( Why to NO GUN not why to Cake. No one needs a why to cake, cake is AWESOME.) Because marriage is not hard.
I wish we would all stop telling young people, “Marriage is hard.” It’s SUCH crap, and it makes them think, “Oh this person is very difficult, BUT I LOVE THIS PERSON and marriage is HARD, everyone says so, so I should marry it, this hard person.” And it makes it seem like marriage is a tiresome, plodding job, like litter box scooping, a chore that must be constantly performed, lest the poo smell take over the laundry room.
Marriage is NOT hard. Life is hard.
LIFE is SO fricken hard. Life is an awful, awful mess, and no one even gets out of it alive. We are all born, we die, and in between, we blunder around hurting each other.
I want to tell young people this: Marriage, if you do it right, if you decide you are a team, if you stand back to back, swords out, is one of the things that make life—which is so awfully, awfully hard—a little softer.
Instead of telling them that MARRIAGE IS HARD, tell them not to marry anyone who makes it seem like that might be true. Let the bad boy roar off on his cool motorbike to sulk and be cool and say cutting clever things to someone else. Let the beautiful but weepy-damaged-crazy princess stay up in her tower, brushing out her hair a thousand times. Marry the one who is on your TEAM. Because I think we can all agree that being married to a butthole or a narcissist IS actually pretty hard.
HERE IS ANOTHER AD, that says it is about getting a Citi Pass to see Beyonce, but I think it is TOTALLY about marriage.
Ladies, marry him. Marry him immediately. I saw this ad and did not realize I was not supposed to like him. That I was supposed to DISDAIN him. I liked him SO much, instantly—-Khaki pants DO go with everything, and they do relieve you of the responsibility of giving a single squatty fig about style. My husband and my son both own a LOT of Khaki pants for exactly both those reasons.
His not caring about style just make him seem like EVERY STRAIGHT MAN I KNOW, and I think most women have that pretty high on their husband material list.
It may even be top three: Sense of humor, kind spirit, would rather have sex with me than Johnny Depp. Check check check.
Also, WHO LIKES KHAKI BEST of all colors? People all like BLUE. Most men are blue-liking SHEEP. No one likes Khaki best. It gives this guy an underdog, outside-the-box-kind-of-aura. I am interested in a person who likes Khaki best.
I would SO marry him. But of course, I married Scott, who is DEEPLY, DEEPLY weird. My first two crushes were The Constellation Orion and Mr. Spock. So. It might just be me. Would you marry the khaki guy?