Do you sometimes get to the bottom of the first page of an online article and think to yourself, shit, I have THREE MORE (or one more, or four more, or in the case of Sunday Times articles, eight or eleven more) PAGES OF THIS??
That is what happened to me wen I read this ridiculous article in the Atlantic Monthly (via Bookslut and a bunch of other blogs written by feminists of one creed or another) about how women should get married to the first man they meet, or at least the last one they meet before they turn that evil age of thirty. I can't even express my emotions at the bottom of page one of this one. (It's like, is it satire? If it is, it's bad satire.) Here's a good clip:
So if you rarely see your husband—but he’s a decent guy who takes out the trash and sets up the baby gear, and he provides a second income that allows you to spend time with your child instead of working 60 hours a week to support a family on your own—how much does it matter whether the guy you marry is The One?