Listen Mary:
Now that the Supremes have tossed out DOMA, my boyfriend and I are planning a wedding. I already know that after the divorce, I want the dining room set. It is solid walnut. I want the good china and the cat as well. He can have the bedroom furniture— it’s a cheap starter set. The tropical fish will be a problem, however, that I can see coming. He won’t give them up without a fight, and it could get ugly.
Planning in Paramus
Dear Plan:
Words fail me. No, they don’t.
First, I recommend you marry the fish. It won’t care about the dining room set. Second, I recommend your boyfriend write me a letter so I can tell him to get away from you as fast as possible. Marriage is forever, dear, which in today’s world means at least two years unless you are a Hollywood B-Lister… then it means two weeks. Finally, suppose you do a pre-nup specifying that you get the dining room and the cat and he gets the rest, then Great-Aunt Sophie dies and leaves you both— jointly— her priceless Ming vase. Now what? You’ve screwed yourself. Or suppose that ridiculous business idea of his actually starts to make money? What then? News flash: the cat won’t help you pay bills. No, on the whole, considering your flagrantly greedy and self-centered approach to the noble institution of holy matrimony, I return to my original suggestion: marry the fish.
Oh, and do tell your BF to write to me. I’d like to meet someone with a bedroom set, especially if he has anything worth taking to bed. Really, just a mattress and a sheet would do. At my age, I’ll put the sheet over my head but I can still wear out a mattress.
Love Mary
Listen Mary:
Now that the Supremes have tossed out DOMA, my boyfriend and I are planning a wedding. I already know that after the divorce, I want the dining room set. It is solid walnut. I want the good china and the cat as well. He can have the bedroom furniture— it’s a cheap starter set. The tropical fish will be a problem, however, that I can see coming. He won’t give them up without a fight, and it could get ugly.
