How to Know if You're in Love

First, realize you’re not in love.

Tell your girlfriend, over and over, you’ll tell her you love her when you’re ready. It’s not an easy thing just to blurt out for reasons as ridiculous as you took the garbage out, you picked her up from work, you roll over to fall asleep. Don’t tell her to stop saying it to you though. She’ll only start crying and saying you’re a terrible person

Take a step back and look at her every time she says it to you. Smile. You have to smile, but wonder deep down if she really means it. Wonder why you won’t -or can’t- say it to her. Decide you’re going to figure it out, and start thinking about it.

At work, the bar, the gym, on drives, during movies, think about it. You’ve been with her for almost two years. You didn’t hesitate when she asked you to move in, though you thought first of the rent being hundreds less in this tiny apartment, with two of you, than in your condo. It did surprise you when she first said it. You were flattered she felt so strongly about you.

You did take that step back, though, the same one you’ll take every time she says it. But you won’t really be able to imagine life without her. You’ll have developed a consistent life, full of predictable patterns and void of surprises.

Decide, at work, you’re going to tell her when you get home.

You’ll want to drive right past the apartment, cruise around the block, maybe even take off to Mexico. Don’t. Just pull into the drive-way. Run up the three flights of stairs, say “Hey,” when you walk through the door, “I wanted to tell you something.”

She’ll mute the TV, look at you for a second, then look back at the TV.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Say. “I think I...”

She’ll look at you quick, but go back to the silent opera.

“Are you listening?”

“Well, yeah, but my show’s on.”

“Nevermind then,” say and throw your bag down and go to the bathroom. You’ll hear the TV turn on and you’ll want to get angry. Don’t. Just stare at yourself in the mirror for a couple minutes and think about how to say it. Practice a few times, even though it’ll never come out the way you practice.

When you think you’re ready, go out to the living room. The Soap will be heading to commercial just as you sit on the sofa beside her. So she’ll mute it, and look at you.

“Ok,” she’ll say, “What did you want to say?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking. And. Well. I think. I love you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she’ll say.

You’ll feel nothing. It will be so anti-climactic you’ll wonder if you’ve actually said it. You start thinking about movies and novels, fairytales where ‘I love you’ was THE climax of the story. There’s hugging and kissing and raising of one leg (the girl’s) and smiling and credits and THE ENDs and Happily Ever Afters.

Here, there’ll only be her questions.

“Was that a question? Do you love me? Why did you say it right now?” She’ll probably say your name over and over too, trying to get your attention.

Say, “Nevermind,” and get up.

“Nevermind? You say ‘I love you,’ and then tell me to nevermind. What is your problem? What made you say it?” She’ll say, and she’ll keep asking a hundred questions as you tie your shoelaces and walk out the door.

Second, get into the independent music scene in your city.

Drive around the city for who knows how long, forgetting about your girlfriend. She’ll text you, “Come back.” Mute your phone. When you don’t reply she’ll send about a billion texts. “Come back please? I do love you. I’m glad you love me. Where are you? ??? Are you coming back?” Some of them, eight, will only say your name with a question mark. Then she’ll be angry. “Well, maybe I’ll leave too. How would you like that? ??? I am leaving. I’m serious. Keep the shitty apartment. I’m going to my sisters. Don’t even bother calling.” The last one says, “I think. I might. Hate you? You Asshole.”

Smile to yourself. Feel bad about smiling, but smile anyway.

Call your brother and ask if he wants to do wings. He’ll tell you he’d love to, but he’s going to a show with a buddy from work. Ask him what show. He’ll tell you some band you’ve never heard of. Tell him you’ll meet him there. It will change your life.

At the show, get a beer. Sit there and drink it and listen to the band. Just listen to the band. Watch them move with the music. Watch the weirdos dancing at the front with their eyes closed. Laugh at the lame stories the lead singer tells while tuning his guitar. Have another beer. Lean back in your chair. Relax a little. Notice you’re tapping your foot without even noticing. Scream for an encore.

Tell your brother you should do this more often.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” he’ll say.

Smile and raise your pint in the air as a type of solute. Your brother will laugh then, and sip from his own beer. He never did like your girlfriend. He could never have lasted so long with someone so clingy.

Look at the posters on your way out and tell your brother to meet you on Friday for one of the shows that looks interesting. He’ll be pumped. The show will be better than the first, and you’ll be hooked.

Go with your brother. Call your cousin when your brother can’t go. Go with a guy from work you barely know, but who, you just found out, likes independent music too. He’ll know a lot of bands, even secret shows that come to your city. You’ll love these shows the best. You’ll feel like you’re a part of something awesome, something awesome that not a lot of people know about, so it makes it that much more awesome.

You’ll think, every now and then, you’d rather go to these shows than have a girlfriend any day. You’ll even go by yourself when you can’t find anyone to go with.

Third, always go to your contact list on your cell phone to click on your brother’s name (instead of memorizing it) when you call him.

That way, when you lose your phone, and you want to text him because you’re sitting in the most amazing show in the world, a band you’ve never even heard of but that is ripping up the stage with a collection of diddys that is utterly blowing your mind, you’ll forget the number.

That way, when you want to text him to tell him, “Maybe the best night of my life. Get to the Undergrime Right Now!! This band is Friggin Awesome,” You’ll screw up the last digit of his number and it will go to the wrong person.

“Um...Sorry. Whos this?” They’ll say.

Tell them your name, then say “Isn’t this [your brother's name]?”

“Haha No its Karlee,” They’ll say.

Be a little embarrassed and put the phone in your pocket. But then think about how you can’t sit in this incredible show without telling anyone, and pull the phone back out.

“Heh, sorry. I meant to text my brother to tell him of a killer show at the Undergrime. Evidently I’ve got the wrong number,” say.

“Haha Wats the Undergrime?” she’ll say.

“It’s a sweet venue. They have a bunch of Indy Bands play. Downtown. Corner of Lone St. and Leigh.”

“O cool Jus start?”

“Just started.”

“Cool,” she’ll say. Then, “Hope you find yur bro,” and she’ll stop texting.

Wonder, for a second, why you feel nervous. Then realize it’s because you are wondering if this girl is going to come to the show.

Keep watching the door. Keep feeling the music and being amazed by it, but keep watching the door. Soon -after a couple of songs, But what will feel like forever to you- a girl will walk through the door all on her own. You won’t recognize her. She’ll be looking around as if she’s lost. Even from across the room, you’ll see she has green eyes. She’s taller than you would have thought, almost as tall as you are probably. She has short blonde hair that frames her face perfectly. She has red, red lipstick on, which -you’ll be surprised to find- you’ll think is irresistible. She’ll have a cute little sundress on with a navy cardigan over it. She’ll lean against the wall, hold her left elbow with her right hand, cross her right foot over her left leg and rest its toe on the floor. She’ll bob her head with the music. When the lead singer tells a lame story and every one laughs, she’ll smile. Blush and look down at your table when you notice her bottom lip moves off the right side, just a little, when she smiles.

When she walks, a little pigeon-toed, to the bar, follow her over. You’ll be incredibly nervous, but you have to follow her over.

Stand behind her in line and wonder what she’ll order. Smile to yourself when she orders the same drink you have every time you’re at the Undergrime. Order the same drink right after her.

As you’re waiting, right before the bartender gives her her drink, ask her, “Are you Karlee?” You’ll feel like a total idiot, but just ask her.

She’ll grab her beer, back up a little bit, take a sip, and say something like, “Um...I am,” and she’ll look around. “How did you know?”

Tell her your name, then say, “I’m the guy who texted you. Uh...I kinda saw you come in. You looked like this might be your first time here.” and then laugh a little embarrassed laugh that will embarrass you even more.

She’ll laugh then, and say, “Oh my gosh. You could tell? I’m so embarrassed.”

“No, don’t be embarrassed,” say.

“I was just turning onto Lone,” she’ll say with her crooked smile. “I thought I’d check it out. Since I was so close.”

“Well, you’ll be glad you did.”

“Yeah, the band sounds cool.”

“I got an extra seat over here,” say, and point to your table. Someone will have swiped it already, so you’ll both laugh and she’ll say there’s room over on the wall she was leaning on.

Stand with her. Listen to the music. Keep sneaking little peeks of her, wondering how she could be so cute. Ask her what she thinks during one of the lame stories. She’ll tell you they’re awesome, she can’t believe she’s never heard of them before. or this place. Tell her you come here all the time. She’ll smile then and say she’ll have to start coming more often.

When the band is finished and everyone’s cheering for an encore, you’ll wonder if you should scream as usual or if she’ll think that’s weird. You’ll be shocked to find she steps away from leaning on the wall, cups her hands around her mouth, and yells -as loud as anyone in there- “Encore! Encore! Encore!”

Text your brother, “This might be the best night ever!”

After the encore, ask Karlee if she wants to go for coffee. She’ll definitely say, “Sure.”

Go to a 24-hour place. It won’t be as nice, but the nice ones close at Midnight. You’ll want more than an hour. You’ll be nervous on the way there, but just gather your courage. She’ll be easy to talk to once you start. You’ll forget you were even nervous.

Just get something you’ll like. Don’t try to be macho and order a triple shot of espresso or something stupid. She’ll order a girly little drink -a caramel machiato or something. She’ll probably just think triple espresso drinks are lame.

Offer to pay for her drink. But don’t insist when she says, “No, that's fine.”

Talk. Talk and talk. You’ll be surprised at how much you can talk about. You won’t have a ton in common, yet, but you’ll still be incredibly interested in everything she has to say. You’ll start to feel like you’ve known her forever. Talk until you notice she’s getting tired. Look at your watch and say, “Holy crap. It’s almost 3AM.”

She’ll yawn and say, “Oh my gosh. I didn’t even notice.”

Ask, “Can we do this again?”

She’ll scribble her number on a napkin.

Smile.

When you get in your car and are just about to leave the parking lot, you’ll get a text. From Karlee, “Haha i think it might have been.” Realize you sent your last text to Karlee, not your brother.

Call her the next day. You’re friends will tell you to wait a few days or a week. You can if you want, but she won’t care if you call her. She’ll be excited if you do.

Take her to shows, to movies, to dinner. Take her on picnics, mini-golfing, bowling, walks. Go with her to art galleries, pose for her pictures, go shopping with her. Take her to a hockey game. Take her to the lake. Go swimming. Go on hikes. Have barbecues. Eat chips and watch movies with her. Introduce her to your brother before your parents. He'll like her. "She's totally opposite from your last girlfriend," he'll say. "Mom and Dad will love her." She'll blush and grab your hand with one hand, your arm with the other. She'll put her head on your shoulder.

Say, "Do you want to meet my parents?"

She'll say, "Sure," and she'll smile.

Don't worry about her meeting your parents. They'll lover her. You're mom will hug her when she first meets her and say, "I'm so excited to meet you. I've never seen my boy so happy before."

You're dad will sip his coffee, then offer his hand for a handshake. "He does seem to be bouncing around with his stupid grin lately," he'll say, and he'll laugh, and your mom will laugh, and you'll be embarrassed, and Karlee will laugh, and you'll say, "Whatever, Dad," and he'll say, "What?" and Karlee will kiss your cheek. Your dad will look you in the eye, raise his eyebrows with a smirk, and sip his coffee. Supper will be perfect.

Not long after that, you'll see a poster on a street-lamp advertising the band -the one you accidentally invited Karlee to- is coming back to your city. They'll playing at a bigger venue this time, and they'll cost a lot more. Buy two tickets anyway. You can't, under any circumstances, miss this show. Take the tickets over to Karlee's apartment. Run up the stairs and burst through the doors. Don't waste any time. Just show her tickets. Tell her the good news.

She'll get excited at first, but when she looks at the tickets closer, she'll say, "Awww. This is for the 28th."

"Yeah, so what," say.

"Well, I have that big photo-shoot that night," She'll say. "I can't really skip it. They've already paid half of it."

"Are you serious?"

She'll just look at you, sad, but smiling a little. "I'm sorry," she'll say.

Try to shake it off. Tell her you'll be fine. You'll take your brother.

She'll say, "I'm really sorry," again.

Go give her a kiss, a passionate kiss that you lose yourself in.

Finally, go to the show with your brother.

He'll be pumped. In the weeks leading up to the show, neither of you will be able to stop talking about it. You'll go early to get the best spots. You'll bring extra cash to buy Karlee a t-shirt. You'll talk about staying after the show to try to wait for the band to leave so you can get their autographs. You'll feel like a high-school girl going to see Justin Bieber.

At the show, you'll get spots right near the front, so close you could almost touch the stage. Your brother will say he's going to catch a guitar pick when they toss it. You'll say, "Yeah, that'd be sweet," but you'll start to feel it right then. You won't know what it is at first. It'll be something like the feeling you get when you're sitting in the waiting area at the dentist. The feeling that says, "When you're done this next little bit, you'll be happy. You'll have nice, shiny teeth and a sexy smile. But still, you just can't wait for the next little bit to be done." It won't make sense at all. Stand there. Watch the stadium fill up with excited people. Try to figure out where your excitement went.

Go buy a t-shirt. You'll tell yourself once your decked out in a sweet new T, you'll be more in the mood for the show. While you're in line, think about which shirt to get Karlee, which colour, which size. Imagine what she'll look like in it. Smile to yourself, but then stop smiling cause you'll remember that she won't be coming to the show. You'll get a little fidgety then, wishing the line would hurry up, so you could hurry up to get back with your brother, so the show would hurry and start so it would hurry up and finish, so you could hurry up and get to Karlee's apartment to give her her t-shirt, to see her.

"What's wrong with you?" your brother will say when you finally get back beside him.

"Nothing," Say.

"This is going to be awesome," he'll yell and raise his hands and a bunch of people will scream.

"I gotta go," say. "Can you find you're own ride home?"

"What? Seriously?"

"Seriously," Say and turn and squish through the crowd to leave.

Drive straight to where Karlee has her photo-shoot. You won't even think about it. You'll just want to see her. When you get there, just burst in. You might interrupt everything and the happy couple will be startled and screw up their pose, but that's all right.

Karlee will say your name, then "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to see you," say.

"It couldn't wait?" she'll say.

"Well, I’ve been thinking about it,” Say. “I think I...”

She’ll look at you quick, but she'll start taking photos again. The couple will go back to posing.

“Are you listening?”

“Well, yeah, but I'm kinda busy right now.”

"Nevermind then," say, and go the bathroom. Just stare at yourself in the mirror for a couple minutes and think about how to say it. Practice a few times, even though it’ll never come out the way you practice.

Karlee will knock on the door. "Are you ok?" she'll say.

You'll get startled a bit, but don't lose focus. "You have a sec?" say.

"They told me I could take a minute if I wanted."

"Ok. Well, I’ve been thinking. And. Well. I think. I love you?” You'll be scared for a second, because it will have the same anti-climactic feeling as last time. You'll think it's stupid. You'll never tell anyone you love them again.

But then she'll hug you. Then kiss you. Then look at you and say, "I love you too. So much."

It's then you'll feel like the climax of a movie. You'll feel like you should have said it before. You'll feel like it's always been true. You'll feel like you'll do anything to hear her say it again. You'll feel like you should have known it's not how you feel after you've said it.

It's how you feel after someone has said it to you.

How to Live Without a Television

First, wish you had a better one. With more channels.

Flip through your four channels. One is almost always too fuzzy. You can hardly watch it. One is almost always news or Jeopardy. One sometimes has some awesome cartoons, but when those are finished you'll be stuck with documentaries of the evolution of ballet in Canada, or the evolution of fish in freshwater. The fourth is french. Your dad says he learnt how to speak French from watching the fourth channel, but you can't understand one word of it. The mouths look like they're supposed to be speaking English anyway. You could probably watch these programs in English.

Ask for a TV for Christmas. Your parents will smile and say, "You just have to wait to see what Santa got you." So you may think you're getting a new TV. You'll want to set it up in your room so you can lay there and watch TV until you fall asleep. You'll figure out how to connect it to your alarm so that it turns on in the morning at 7 am. You can watch the morning cartoons before school. You'll love it So much your parents will notice and they'll just have to get cable so you can enjoy it even more.

Your parents buy you a remote control car for Christmas. They laugh at how surprised you look when you open it. "We knew you'd never guess what we got you!" they say, and they're smiling so wide you can't help but smile and hold it up beside your face for the snap of the camera.

Mumble something about everything being unfair.

Take your remote control car outside and zoom around for a while on the freshly scraped sidewalk. Soon, you'll find the way it shoots off the sidewalk into the street is actually pretty awesome. If you go fast enough, it ramps off the incline where the driveway turns back into the sidewalk. You can mark the distance of each jump by placing a pebble on the sidewalk where it lands. When your sister comes out to check it out, chase her around the driveway with your car. She'll scream and try to climb up a tree and say she's going to go tell on you. Don't stop. She'll run inside and try to tattle, and your dad will come stand at the window with his coffee mug with the silly snowman on the front, and he'll smile. You'll know he's proud of the gift he's picked out. He's proud of the boy playing with it.

Decide a remote control car might be better than a TV in your room.

Go visit your best friend on Boxing Day. He definitely got a TV and a Super Nintendo for Christmas. He'll say, "It's the best! I stayed up til almost all the way to midnight playing Mario Kart last night." Sit there and play all day long until your legs fall asleep and you can't walk even if you wanted to. Look at your friend when his mother says, "OK boys, time for supper." He'll just sit, so you just sit. Eventually she'll bring it up to you, and you can eat it right there in front of the TV. Wait long enough and she'll come pick up the dishes and wash them for you. Don't even notice the daylight disappearing as you play. Fall asleep in second place with Donkey Kong zooming past you to take the lead.

Wake up the next morning tired and lazy and jealous of your friend.

Tell your dad you had a blast, you wish you had a TV in your room when he comes to pick you up. Tell him yeah you played with your remote control car a little bit while you were there, even if you didn't. He'll know you're lying, but you'll feel bad if you don't tell him that. Ask him if he wants to play with it when you get home. He will love to play with it, with you.

He'll say, "Let's see who's faster," and he'll run ahead of the car. Push the lever as hard as you can so it goes as fast as possible. Of course, he'll be faster, but he'll do that run where his feet are flailing and his arms flap around like he's lost all control. He'll pretend to fall over and your car will win, and you'll be rolling on the ground laughing.

Go over to Auntie's for dinner sometime. Turn on the TV and find that she's started getting cable since the last time you were there. Watch cartoons that you've never got to watch before. You'll be so excited you get to go to school to let everyone know you got to watch Transformers or that ultra-cool Super Mario cartoon that isn't actually that cool, but everyone is in love with.

Get jealous of everyone who has cable and gets to watch whatever they want. Make it through Highschool without ever being totally up to date with all the latest reality TV shows or the newest teenage drama shows with all the super hot actresses.

Decide it's alright cause you enjoy other things like sports and skateboarding and even reading, though you don't tell people that last one. Going to movies at the real theatre is actually awesome, because you haven't already seen all the funniest parts on the thousands of different previews.

Don't even bother to bring a TV to college. Your roommate will bring his and he'll have cable and you'll be able to watch all you want. It'll be such a luxury having so many channels, you'll find yourself sitting and watching TV --with your roommate or without him-- until early in the morning. You'll barely do any homework. Your marks will go from a steady 80% - 85% in highschool to a mid 60's in College.

Start wondering if you're really cut out for college. Squeak by with a 63% and in the summer, tell people you're still trying to figure out if you'll be going back to college in the fall.

Go plant trees in British Columbia. Meet some really weird people who love to smoke all kinds of things. Meet some really cool people who love to do all kinds of things. Read. Write. Walk. Think. Plant trees. Make friends. Decide since you have the money now, you might as well go back to school.

Get an apartment with one of the guys you went tree-planting with. Split the bill for cable. You'll be excited to watch some TV after those few months without it.

Get a little annoyed at your roommate when he comes home from his Political Science class saying that his prof promised free text books if anyone brought a TV --smashed to bits-- to his class the next day.

"We just got cable set up," tell him.

"Yeah, but my prof said it's the biggest waste of time there is. And it totally is. We'll get like a billion percent in our classes I bet."

Try to stop him, but move out of the way when he slams his father's old hammer through the top of the TV. Say, "Sure, why not?" when he asks you if you'd like a go at it.

Smash that TV into more pieces than is necessary. It'll be as fun as racing remote control cars with your Dad when you're 11. Sit down on the couch when you're done. Look at your friend. Raise your eyebrows as if you're saying, "What the heck did we just do?" Laugh out loud with him before you start picking up the pieces. Remember that day until you're an old man, reading in your study.

Watch. Your grades get higher and higher. Win a scholarship for diligence and excellence in your studies. Graduate with honours.

Marry your long-time girlfriend.

Think about getting a TV in your new place in Toronto where you've landed a job teaching Highschool English.

Decide against it. Your wife will be on-board because she likes the way you're passionate about it. She also knows how productive you both are when you're not watching it.

Love going to movies with your wife.

Develop some of the kids in your English class into some of the most influential artists of their generation. Some of them will be annoyed at the amount of homework you assign. Their parents will call to complain and say you're too hard on them. They're not going to learn if they're always feeling down about themselves. Think about lessoning the amount of homework, but in the end, decide it's the best thing for them.

Cry just a little tiny bit each time the valedictorian thanks you in front of everybody for instilling in them a love for English and for learning.

Smile to yourself when your son comes to you and says, "Dad, can I get a TV for my room for Christmas?"

Ruffle his hair a little bit and say, "You just have to wait to see what you'll get."

Go out the next day and buy the biggest, fastest remote control car you can find.

How to Eat Your Broccoli

First, hide it in your milk.

Kick and scream and clamp your mouth shut until your parents get fed up and go to the living room. They tell you you're not getting down from the table until you eat them, Don't you dare throw them out, We can hear you if you do. Cry a little until they leave the kitchen. Then, drop them into you're glass of milk. Tell them you're done and make sure to sniffle while they come to scope out the place. It will work at least once, maybe twice, but they'll figure it out eventually, probably when you do it so fast they think there's no way he could have choked all that broccoli down already. Find a different strategy. Napkins, pockets, vents.

Tell your friend's mothers your mother never makes you eat it. They won't argue with you because they have to wrestle with their own kids for Pete's sake, why would they wrestle with you?

Order your burgers without pickles or onions or tomatoes or any sort of vegetable. Pick the mushrooms off your steak. Gag on red peppers. Take a sip of V8 and spit it out all over the sidewalk.

Take a multi-vitamin.

Once you're old enough, you feel like getting married, find a girl who won't settle for second best. Don't find any old girl who will eat anything and will probably just get fat along with you. A girl like that is no good because she'll never pull you aside to say, "You're looking a little bigger than you used to. Do you think we need to start eating better?" Find a girl who will say that to you. You don't want to be fat. You need a girl who will tell you when you are.

Once you've found her, slap a ring on that finger before some other idiot who definitely wants to be ripped when he's middle aged sweeps her off her feet and asks her to make him steamed broccoli 'til death does them part. You won't regret it.

Gain a few pounds. Convince yourself your metabolism is just as fast as it was in high-school. It doesn't matter if you eat fast-food 3 times a week. Eat fast food 3 times a week and gain some wait. You're wife will be on the ball. She'll give you the speech a few times, hoping it will work and you'll start eating properly before it's too late.

Keep eating whatever you want and getting more overweight. Your wife will eventually get angry and tell you, 'Look at all the work I put in for you. Look at how I'm eating tomatoes and broccoli and all kinds of disgusting things just so I can keep my figure. When are you going to put in the work for me?'

Feel really bad. You deserve it. She's totally right.

Go to a book store and find a book about getting skinny. They'll all tell you you need to eat more vegetables, cut down on the red meat, the carbs, the sugar. The more colourful the food, the better it is for you. You won't get too motivated, though, until you read a book of essays in which the author tells you to grow your own vegetables because it will save the world. If every American grew their own produce, the amount of fuel they used to have them shipped to the grocery would be cut in half and the money spent on it could solve world hunger.

Plant your own garden. Tell your wife it's important for us to live efficiently, even if it only makes a small dent in the damage our country is doing. She'll be impressed, yet totally surprised. She'll be excited about it too, and together you'll have a blast growing your vegetables.

Once you've grown the tiny little stocks of broccoli that look nothing like the steroid-filled grocery store broccoli, melt some cheese on top of it and eat your damn broccoli.

Eating your broccoli is as easy as that.

How To Be Married

First, get married.

For the first week or two, you'll think it's easy. All the preparations and planning of the wedding will have fallen by the wayside. You'll remember very little about the wedding. The flowers, no. Your cute little niece as the flower girl, no. The little Book of Wisdom your mother wraps so carefully and hands to you, a tear fluttering down her cheek as you leave her home for the last time as a bachelor, no. The little speech your dad gives at the reception, no, except his words, I'm proud of you.

These are the things you will remember:

Sweat. You will remember wondering if it's possible to sweat through an undershirt, a dress shirt, a vest, and a suit jacket in less than an hour.

You will remember forgetting about sweat when your bride appears at the end of the aisle. You will remember her smile as her eyes meet yours from across the sanctuary. You will remember how perfect she looks as she offers her own vows. You will forget the vows. Remember her face; true love is written there.

You will remember her hand, her finger as you slip the ring past her knuckles and snuggle in next to her engagement diamond.

You will remember her giggle as she shoves that piece of cake into your mouth and smears it across your cheeks. This will be your definition of happiness for the remainder of your life.

Cherish these memories. They are treasure that must be kept safe, hidden away where you know they won't be tainted, but where you can easily retrieve them. You will need them later.

Your honeymoon will be incredible. Your wife will surprise you with her sexual prowess. She will want to do it six times the first night. She will want to do it in the hot tub, in the kitchen, in the hotel elevator, on the beach. She'll want to do it after breakfast, before lunch, during supper. In short, she will want to do it.

Don't expect this to continue when you get home. She will make you work for it then. This is where most men get frustrated, but it's really very simple.

Take out the garbage. Pay the bills on time. Do the dishes every now and then, at least once a week, not too often, or she'll take it for granted. Offer to do the laundry. You're wife won't let you. Thank her. Put your dirty underwear in the dirty clothes hamper. Mow the lawn.

These are simple things your wife will classify as work.

There are other, more fun things to do for her. A foot rub during the six o'clock news will go a long way. A shoulder rub, even farther. A full body rub, in bed, will always, 100% of the time, result in sex. Add chocolate, maple syrup, or popsicles to make it interesting. Your wife will love it. You will love it.

After a year, maybe eighteen months, you will start to argue. About everything. You will remember your dating years and wonder how that couple, the one who agreed about everything, could end up arguing about what time to arrive at a dinner party, even though the invite says seven o'clock. Or what color the bathroom towels should be. You will argue about big things too, like money or family. Sometime during these arguments, you come to your senses and think, This is ridiculous. Why are we arguing about this? It's stupid, you'll say. Don't. Your wife will not think any argument is stupid while she's having it.

She will call you all kinds of horrible names. Some of them you will deserve, others you won't. Don't try to distinguish between them just yet. She'll think you're being smug when you're busy thinking and you don't answer her.

You'll want to bring up every time she's lied to you or screwed you over in some way. Resist this urge with everything in you. If you succeed, you'll want to pick up something, anything and throw it through a window. It will only cost you in the long run, at least the cost of a window. Go for a walk. You may slam the door on the way out if you wish; she will expect it.

Now is the time when you bring your treasury of memories out. You love your wife. She makes you happy. Without her, you would be hopeless. Remember cake on your cheek. Think about chocolate, maple syrup, and popsicles. Sooner or later, you'll cool down. By this time, you'll be excited to get home. Don't run home. You don't want your wife to know you're excited.

On the way home, you'll wonder if she's still fuming. You'll start to worry she'll be angry that you're not mad anymore. You mustn't. Secretly, if not openly, she'll be glad you're home.

Apologize immediately. If you've realized she's right, apologize for being wrong. If you still think she's wrong, apologize for getting so angry, for leaving, for slamming the door, anything. The words, I'm sorry, will inevitably soften her stubbornness. Once that wall is cracked, she will begin to see things more clearly. She might apologize, she might not. Don't worry about it.

She will want to have sex that night. Don't use chocolate or maple syrup or popsicles. Just go hard. You will both think it's some of the best you've had.

Memories are the keys to happiness. Never stop filling your treasure box. Remember that look your wife gives that says, I'm so proud of you, when you're promoted to copyeditor. It brings the best out of you.

Remember that moment after you've had your first child. Your son is screaming, your wife is screaming. Yet all you can think is, I've got the most beautiful family in the world.

Remember your fifth anniversary when your wife comes down the stairs in that new red dress. You're ready to go? She asks in a voice that's so very nonchalant and unpresuming but with that face that says, I know. I'm stunning.

These are the moments that will make you want to shower your wife with compliments. Do it. There will never be enough compliments.

You will think the broad compliments with loaded words will be the best.

You're beautiful.

You look cute.

I love you so much.

She will want specifics.

I love how your eyes shine when you where that sweater.

Those jeans make your butt look sexy.

Navy looks so good on you.

Will you wear the red lipstick? I love when you wear the red lipstick.

If you think it, say it. Just don't invent compliments. She will only think you're horny if you start inventing. She might put her sweat pants on.

Don't forget to remember. Your marriage will become stale and hard if you forget. Or when you stop adding new memories.

Soon, you will look back, and the memories will have become your life, and by the time it's all over, you'll start to think, marriage is pretty easy after all.

How To Smoke a Pipe

First, buy a pipe.

Think of a man, famous or otherwise, born before 1920. Pick someone you're interested in or curious about, because you'll need to read a book about them. If you want to save money in order to splurge on a nice pipe, borrow the book from the library. Otherwise, buy a coffee and go browse the biography section of your favorite book store.

If the book is an autobiography, the man will have countless stories of how he would hide away in his office to clear his head while he puffs on his pipe, or how he would pull out his Ardor in board meetings and light it up, for intimidation's sake. If it's just a biography, you'll found quotes from all of his children and grandchildren of how he would always smell of hazelnut pipe tobacco, or how he'd try to cover the smell of tobacco with breath mints.

The more you read, the more you'll imagine yourself, sitting in your study or, in these days, out on your deck or patio, smoking your pipe. You can just see the neighbors riding past on their ten-speeds nodding their heads and looking at each other, thinking there's something mysterious about that wise man on the patio. You smile at the children running through the sprinkler across the street, and they wave before slipping on the wet grass, then laugh as you stand to make sure they're OK.

As you imagine, though, you'll inevitably start to think of all your friends who have quit smoking, or your mother who would have your neck if you ever started smoking at your age. You'll try to think of excuses or reasons why you, who knows smoking will kill you, should be able to start smoking a pipe if you want to. It's not as if you're going to be smoking every day or all day. Just when you need to clear your head or exercise some intimidation at work.

You won't be able to find good enough reasons, so you'll settle for imagining right now. You may even read another autobiography.

After a while - a few months if you have a good imagination, maybe a year or two if you're too busy - you'll start to think more seriously about it. You're older now. You've been out of the house for a few years. You can make your own decisions. You know you're own limits. You won't get addicted, it's just a leisurely activity to do while the sun is setting and the kids are in bed. You think you would suit a pipe.

You search the internet for different styles and makes and models. You even visit a website that has a chat-room where people can post questions about pipes. You post the question: I'm trying to pick out my first pipe. I've never smoked one before, but think they are quite wonderful. Anyone have any tips on which I should get?

Five or six people reply. They all give you different reasons for picking different pipes - shape, color, texture, bowl size, make, don't get a rip-off it'll burn your mouth. But in the end you'll just pick the one that looks the nicest and is in your price range. You type in you're credit card number and You buy a pipe.

Second, buy some tobacco.

Search through the phone directory to find the nearest tobacconist. If you live in a large city you may find a few. If not, there may be only one. If there's only one, you'll meet some of the friendliest people who just love to smoke a pipe. They'll be so excited to serve a pipe tobacco virgin, they might even through in an extra gram of tobacco for free. They'll show you all these different flavors - hazelnut, chocolate, vanilla, vanilla-hazelnut. You'll feel like you're in a gourmet coffee house. They'll warn you about harsh ones or ones that are for veteran smokers. They'll tell you this one's nice or a lot of virgins start off on that one. In the end you'll pick the flavor mentioned in the autobiography you chose. You'll be more than pleased.

The salesperson will remind you not to inhale, pack the first pinch like a baby the second like a woman and the third like a Man, only fill the bowl up half-way the first few times, let the pipe cool down, 100%, before you clean it, come back if you have any questions. They'll even give you a special, vintage match box with long-lasting matches.

Run to your car, roll down the window and smoke your pipe.

You'll need about ten matches, because you'll never pack it properly your first time and it will burn out repeatedly. Take a few puffs, make a circle with your mouth like they do on cartoons and shoot out a cloud of smoke. You might cough, you might not, but the smoke will not be in a perfect circle like you imagined before you bought it. You'll have to practice that. After a few puffs, start your car and go home. Try to keep it lit so you can smoke while your driving. Other drivers will give you that same look the neighbors on the ten-speeds gave you, only you won't be imagining it. People will think you're mysterious, wise, old, handsome, intelligent, whatever you want them to think about you, that's what they'll think.

Practice packing it so you can sit on your front step for 15 to 20 minutes without having to re-light. Just sit and relax and watch the squirrels frolic and the birds flutter about and the smoke float away. Tell your mother you're fine. Tell your friends, it's spectacular. One or two of them will buy pipes on-line so they can join you at your next get-together.

When you're done, put it in the little protective case it came with and place it on the mantel, away from the reach of the children. Smile to yourself and go give your wife a kiss. Later, during an interview with your biographer, she'll tell them she loved how you smelt of pipe tobacco, though she'd never tell it to your face.

Smoking a Pipe is as Easy as That.