At a certain time each year, love barges into my apartment via First Class mail. It takes the form of wedding invitations. Looking bewilderingly expensive and bright, these pieces of paper court me each spring.
But as I peruse these invitations year after year, I find myself juggling two conflicting emotions. The first is joy—two friends have found “true love,” and they are willingly committing the rest of their lives to each other. But the second is apprehension. Will they last? Are they right for each other? Who can blame me for thinking like this, given that the divorce rate was fifty perfect in 2010.
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