Diary of a Mad Bride by Laura Wolf Page B

town in a traveling show.
    The show’s permanent. They’re here to stay.
    Stephen wrapped his arm around my waist and gave me a hug.
    STEPHEN
    You have to remember, they’ve never been wildly in love. Larry hasn’t had a date in over a year because he’s too nervous to call a woman. And Mitch is so insecure that he’ll sleep with anyone with a futon.
    That’s half of New York. Suddenly the article we did last May on the rise of venereal disease was starting to make sense.
    STEPHEN
    Trust me. Once they’re more comfortable around you they’ll start to relax and show you their more interesting side. I swear it’s there.
    ME
    That’d be a lot easier to believe if Mitch was wearing underwear.
    As I pointed across the room, Stephen saw what I did—the bride sitting on the sofa, straddling a giant bong, giving everyone a glimpse at his full-frontal.

november 3rd
    T oday at the staff meeting Barry made a not-so-subtle remark about the “Faces in the City” issue being behind schedule.
    Which it’s not. I’ve got it all in my head. I just need to commit it to paper, have Kate type it up, and get Mr. Spaulding’s approval before distributing it throughout the office.
    The issue focuses on ten of the city’s most influential and intriguing residents. So far I’ve come up with nine. I’m certain the last one will come to me any day now. I’ve done an enormous amount of research, but I’ve been stuck on number ten ever since the Concessions Stand Proposal. And since it’s my first issue as editor, I want it to shine. I want it to have my distinctive mark. Especially now that Barry’s on the prowl.
    I assured everyone that they’d have my complete list of ten “Faces” within the week.

november 5th
    I couldn’t stand it anymore. I’ve spent the last three months trying to pretend it didn’t matter. But it does. So I finally broke down and asked Stephen why he chose the candy line of a stinky movie theater on Broadway to ask me the most important question of our entire lives.
    The minute I asked I knew I’d done something horribly wrong. He looked like I’d told him the NBA Championships had been canceled.
    STEPHEN
    I was trying to be romantic. Don’t you remember? We had our first kiss on the candy line of that stinky movie theater.
    Oh, God. He’s right.
    STEPHEN
    We were waiting to buy popcorn and all of a sudden I couldn’t stop myself. I just had to kiss you. You were just so beautiful.
    I remember that kiss. Pure spontaneity. It made me tingle from my head to my toes. It was the nicest kiss I ever got. And I had entirely forgotten about it.
    But not Stephen. He made the world’s most romantic gesture by proposing to me at the very same spot as that fabulous kiss and I screwed it all up by complaining. My fiancé may defy his gender’s genetic coding with his sensitivity, his tenderness, and his affection, but I’ve disgraced mine by acting like such a GUY!
    How can he ever forgive me? How can I ever forgive myself?

november 6th
    I ’m assuming Stephen still wants to marry me despite the fact that I’m a heartless bitch, because he’s been arguing with his parents about their outrageous guest lists for our wedding. He’s managed to get his dad’s list down to ten, but his mom is still hovering at sixty-five—including the ever-popular Hans Lindstrom, who, it turns out, is heroptometrist
and
favorite client. She redid his cabin in the Adirondacks last spring.
    If I were the one doing the arguing I’d point out that $5,000 buys a limited number of seats to our nuptial celebration. And that the only venue we’ll be able to afford with that budget is the school auditorium in Love Canal.
    But then, that’s me. Stephen’s got a whole other way of handling things. Being a software developer/computer programmer, he focuses on the “logic” of the situation. Logically speaking, would Hans really be insulted if he weren’t invited?
    For the record—the answer was yes.

november 10th
    I