One of the things I’ve learned, over my many years of roadtripping in and across Texas, is that hell is being stuck going 50 miles per hour behind a recreational vehicle. But recently, I’ve come to wonder if heaven might be being behind the wheel of one.
I don’t generally dream about buying big-ticket things like cars and houses. I’m a freelance writer, after all. At this point, saving even a few hundred dollars a year is a struggle — though that got significantly less stressful once I moved in with, and later married, my husband. Splitting rent and groceries and bills has taken significant pressure off my wheezing bank account — even more so than living with roommates.
So maybe that’s why I started letting myself fantasize about taking long trips to Marfa in a giant vehicle with a wildcat or a wolf emblazoned on the back. When I proposed this to Patrick, he was, as we say here in Texas, “raring to go.” Some couples dream of outfitting a nursery. Patrick and I dream of converting an engine to biodiesel and training the cats to ride shotgun. Keep reading »
In a couple of weeks, I’m going to be living it up in beautiful South Dakota. The occasion: my new grandma-in-law’s octogenarian birthday and combination family reunion. I hear there will be picnics and jet skis involved.
I am petrified.
But Andrea, how can you be petrified when there are jet skis involved, you ask? Well first off, I’m afraid of watercraft, so there’s that. But there’s also the fact that these jet skis belong to my new-in-law family, and what am I supposed to do around these perfectly nice, terrifying people for three whole days in beautiful rural South Dakota? Also, “beautiful rural South Dakota” is a few kinds of redundant, right? Keep reading »
The amazing thing about life is how many complete assholes manage to find someone willing to put up with their bullshit and marry them. When I was a single person, the thing that crushed me the most when I was feeling lonely wasn’t that I thought I’d never find a spouse. It was that Donald Trump did. Three times. Ben Roethlisberger? Totally married. Michele Bachmann! Married to another asshole. Michael Vick? Just spent $300,000 on his wedding this weekend. The “Real Housewives“? They are, by definition, married. I always wonder why self-help books and matchmaker shows bother shaming perfectly nice people into becoming “marriage material” when so many complete shits of human beings didn’t change a thing about themselves and still found love.
Of course, married assholes don’t have to be famous. They can be these assholes, who had a three-day wedding celebration that they made their guests cook and pay for. They could be this asshole, who dumped a bridesmaid because she was fat. Assholes get married all the time; sometimes because they were assholes before they got married. And sometimes the wedding process turns otherwise lovely people into assholes. The whole process is practically designed to do that to people. Keep reading »
I recently stumbled on the video of a bride singing Christina Aguilera’s “The Right Man” while she walked down the aisle, and I reacted so strongly that I startled myself. The video opened up a cavern of emotion that, while I knew it was there, went deeper than I realized. And that emotion was repugnance. To me, this serenade was not an act of love, but an act of vanity. I saw a woman in the midst of a performance that had nothing to do with how she felt about the man she was walking towards and everything to do with a fantasy she’d been playing out in her head since she was a little girl–groom TBD.
But self-aggrandizing brides aside, the bottom line of my repugnance was that I hate weddings. I think they have gotten so out of control that they have become intolerable, and I deeply resent being held hostage to their preposterous demands. For years I’ve faked my joy for brides and brides-to-be both out of respect and fear. I have put on a smile and cooed over dresses, shoes, cakes and flowers, partially because I usually do love the person the bride is when she is not a bride, but also because I am afraid that I will be shunned from the sisterhood if my disdain is discovered. Keep reading »
This summer, my younger brother is getting married. (I would like, before going any further with this subject, to state in no uncertain terms that I very much like the young lass he’s chosen for his bride.) When he got engaged, I immediately started working on my plan for what I’d do if I were still single when his big day came; as it happens, the Single Older Sister at the Younger Sibling’s Wedding is a rather frequent occurrence.
As luck would have it, I no longer need this plan – but here it is; I can only hope will provide you with the littlest bit of entertainment/assistance, should you need it. Keep reading »