(photo from latimesblogs.latimes.com)Since tying the knot with Mr. Wright in 2004, I’ve realized that not everyone who loves us actually loves the idea of us… together. In fact, many a bookmaker was put out of business when we actually made it to our first anniversary, beating every bet that our respective circles of friends threw down.
Yes, we have beaten the odds in making it this far. After all, we are the consummate odd couple; living proof that opposites attract. I attribute much of it to my exceptional improvisational skills.
Have you seen my act? It starts with a question – usually cried out in a state of disbelief – and wraps with my song-and-dance answer. I call it, appropriately enough, “The Defense of (My) Marriage Act.”
From my liberal friends: You married a conservative?! I did not, in fact, marry a conservative. I married a political geek who looks at every candidate’s voting record on every issue. We are, for lack of a better term, “independents.” That is, he votes for his preferred candidates and advises me to vote for the same candidates. I listen, nod my head, and independently vote for my picks.
Sometimes we agree, sometimes we don’t. Even when we don’t, it still works. Look at James Carville and Mary Matalin; Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger. It can be done.
From my vegan friends: You married a hunter?! Oh, yes. I did marry a hunter. In fact, we are probably one of the only families in America to be card-carrying members of both PETA and the NRA. I will say that I have much more respect for omnivores who procure their own meat than those who buy their steaks from the meat counter at their favorite chain grocery. I mean, if you want to eat dead flesh, at least have the bullocks to do your own dirty work.
The meat my children and my husband eat was either hunted and killed by my husband, or raised by someone in our family. These critters lived out in the open, never got injected with steroids or ate feed made of baby chickens (fed into the grinder while still alive). I can live with that, and I assert that there is more integrity in the meat in my freezer than in the graying top sirloin cut on display at the Meat-o-rama.
From my mother: You signed your Christmas cards with “Love and blessings from the Greg Wrights…!” Yes, Mom. I did. I know it shocks you to think of me as a dependent, mousy woman who identifies herself solely through her husband, so let me come clean on this one. Our combined families are so huge, I couldn’t bear to hand-sign all of the cards. I printed out labels instead, and perfunctorily stuck them inside the cards. I used “The Greg Wrights” to differentiate us from the Gary Wrights, the Ted Wrights, and the Reverend Jeremiah Wrights… and, I was too lazy to type in all nine of our names.
From my ex-boyfriends: You actually found someone to marry you?! Next question, please…
