If you haven't read the article by Lori Gottlieb in the Atlantic Monthly yet, you have been living under a rock. And I'm jealous of your bliss.
There has been much furor over it- discussions on NPR and MPR, feminists ranting, Ms. Gottlieb receiving mountains of mail. I for one found it quite annoying. She has a kernel of a point in there somewhere; but when she suggests that you marry a man whom you're physically repulsed by, or is actively grieving for a dead spouse, or is an unrepentant alcoholic...really, it's hard to take any of it seriously.
As all of us married people know, our spouses have quirks. Well, so do we. If accepting those is settling, then sure, all of us have settled. But do we always accept the quirks of the one we love? Or do we grumble and complain?
Which segues to this week's poetic gem, by the most marvelous Vikram Seth. I hope it makes you smile.
My love, I love your breasts. I love your nose.
I love your accent and I love your toes.
I am your slave. One word, and I obey.
But please don't slurp your coffee that way.