Stone Fox Bride

"Once, in my late 20s, I was eating sushi with my friend Eric bemoaning a recent breakup. The weekend before, we’d attended a classmate’s wedding and were having a postmortem about the event in the way that disenchanted people in their late 20s do (basically just talking shit), feeling hopelessly single and unsuccessful and eons away from finding everlasting love ourselves. I remember it was raining, and we had just seen Brokeback Mountain and I said something like: “I’m so lost; I’ll never find true love,” and Eric said something like, “There are two kinds of people in their 20s. The A’s and the B’s. The A’s do everything by the book: They marry their college sweetheart, are knocked up in no time, have a perfect job and a white picket fence. But the B’s can’t quite seem to find their way and nothing ever fits, not the job or the boyfriend, and they're always sort of searching and stumbling and bumbling along blindly." Then he said: “Face it, Molly. You and I are B’s.” I nodded, but I had stopped listening. I was thinking about my sister, Becca. She was — she is — an A. A plus plus plus. Super, duper, grade A to the max. Basically a walking white picket fence, she got married six years out of college, had committed to the same career for twenty years, always folded her underwear, never bounced a check or pressed snooze, and her pillowcases and stationary and beach bags all bore a blue monogram. Post-college, I was, and had always been, the exact opposite: a blur of Prozac and dirty dishes and jobs I couldn’t seem to keep. Every morning I woke up in a sea of self-loathing and stared at the ceiling convinced that at any moment the whole wide world would fall on my head." — An oldie but goodie from the annals of Dear Molly on Vogue.com: "It’s Been Months, and I Still Can’t Get Over My Ex-Boyfriend"! Link in profile.