I have often said that one of the advantages of having a (mostly) not-very-good and then a (towards the end) wholly-fucked-up marriage, the first time around, is that—despite being rather high-maintenance in general (shut up)—I am so profoundly grateful for everything Otto and I have, I’m really quite easy to keep happy on the marital front.
Why yes, I DID just say he’s SO LUCKY to have me.
And I am happier, and probably healthier, as a result. Which is probably the reason why a very pretty reader of mine thought of me when she got this little assignment for a tiny little magazine, and needed someone to interview about the benefits of marriage. I was happy to help her out, and it didn’t occur to me that it was any sort of big deal.
Oh. Well, okay. Maybe you’ve heard of her? Her name is Lori Oliwenstein. She’s a great writer, and a sweet lady to boot. Everyone’s heard of Lori, right? No…? Hmmm.
It appears that many of you read the magazine in question, though, as the last few days I have gotten a bunch of email from people that says things like, “OH MY GOD, is this you in this article in TIME magazine???”
So, yeah. That’s me in that article in TIME. And Otto, too… although for SOME strange reason they wouldn’t let him use “Otto.” Journalistic integrity, or something. WHATEVER.
Anyway, it cracks me up that people are so excited (holy hell, my parents weren’t this jazzed when I graduated from college), as my main accomplishment here is… the ability to speak on the phone. Lori is the one who should be (and probably is) dancing in the streets, as she is rocking on with her bad self with an actual BYLINE, whereas I am merely Interview Subject B, or whatever.
The resultant article also illustrates the reason I bid all true journalistic endeavors goodbye after a short stint of writing for a paper a couple of years ago; blogging allows you to INCLUDE EVERYTHING, even what you think of the lint in your belly button, should you be so inclined. Actual “respected journalism” requires that you get right to the point with expedience and ruthlessness. Forty-five minutes on the phone turns into a one-line quote in an article, and stuff that I think is FASCINATING is left out because it’s not TO THE POINT enough. And that’s fine, although it’s (obviously) not my style.
Slightly less fine is that this concatenation of nuances tends to result in inferences that aren’t necessarily quite right.
For example, if you read this article in TIME, it basically implies that I was miserable and crippled, and then Otto came along and saved me. I’d like to believe I was the master of my own “rescue,” you know… but that wouldn’t fit in so well with the thrust of the article. (This is not to cast aspersions on Lori, by the way—she did a great job. I know how this stuff works, and she did her job, and the editor did his/her job, and this is just how it ends up.) The result reads a little bit to me like Otto swooped in and performed my hysterectomy his own damn self, though. I agree that that’d certainly make things more interesting. Otto is great with cars and all, but let’s just say I’m glad there was an actual surgeon removing my uterus.
The quote from Otto sort of makes him sound like a typical oblivious male, too, which is… not quite right. Again, that’s how these things go. Sokay.
But the general theme of the piece? That we’re much happier and healthier together than we ever were, apart? That part is totally true.
Even though Otto HAS been asking me over and over if I want to have a Super Bowl party here. Somehow he’s gotten it into his head that I don’t want to—even though I’ve said “YES, LET’S” every time (and more recently, also adding “WHY DO YOU KEEP ASKING ME THIS?”)—and has developed amnesia about the twelve other times he’s asked. In conclusion, I love my husband very, very much. And we’re having a damn Super Bowl party, already, and if he asks me again I’m going to hurt him. Which, I suppose, may negatively impact his health.
True love. Ain’t it grand?