In less than three weeks, I'm going to get married. Well, first I turn 25 and have lunch at Bolo, courtesy of Restaurant Week. Then I find out whether little Harry lives or dies (no nasty cheating spoilers for me). Then Mr. Ben takes the bar and either lives to tell about it or keels over from the exhaustion of constant studying, the celebratory champagne bottle his law firm sent no doubt clutched in one hand. THEN I jump the broom.
Thank god for Harry Potter VII. What could be better distraction? Except, perhaps, the most amazing pair of shoes and best birthday present EVER. Writhe with jealousy over that picture. Covet, even. Go ahead, it's okay, God understands.
On Sunday, while recovering from much joyous wandering about in the sun -- to Governor's Island, at last!, among other places -- and doing chores, I rewatched all of the A&E Pride and Prejudice. Appropriate, since it's about marriage, more or less from start to finish. It's a good reminder to be grateful that marriage is an option, not something I have to do to get out of my father's house or because there's no other way to be financially secure. To further encourage myself along those lines, I've also been thinking about the gay marriage advocates out there (more power to them). If they're willing to fight as hard as they've been fighting to form a more blessed union, then there must be something to it, mustn't there? I mean, besides salad bowls.
Perhaps if gay marriage were legal I'd be calmer about getting married. The world needs more queer wives, and I'd feel better about being compared to them than to the great straight wives of history.