Before I met Mike I was in single lady hell. I spent Valentines Day at Housing Works reading magazines. 

Before I met Mike I was in single lady hell. I spent Valentines Day at Housing Works reading magazines, to give you an idea. I was 32, had been through lots of boyfriends and breakups, and felt very cynical about it all. I remember looking at my Blackberry one night before bed. It said “battery drained” and I felt like it perfectly described my state of mind. I had spent the past ten years dating tough-guy modelizers and was bottoming out on all of them.


Mike randomly sent me a message on Facebook in the winter and I thought he was such a loser that I deactivated my account and waited four months to get back to him. Then in the spring a friend told me she'd had lunch with Mike and that he was "nice and cute", so I went back on FB and I told him to meet me at Mud Cafe at 9pm. I may as well have told him to meet me at Starbucks — that’s how little I cared. It was like what Bob Dylan says about having nothing so you have nothing left to lose.



I threw on some baggy jeans that were dragging on the ground and an old t-shirt. I went in and Mike came in a second later. He said "I'm Mike" and rubbed his chest. He was wearing a Patagonia shirt. He looked like a sensible New England chicken farmer and I was like, "ew". He proceeded to name drop every person he ever worked with —including Ewan McGregor, Anthony Hopkins, Hunter Thompson, Kurt Vonnegut, etc — then told me that he discovered The Strokes, made out with Chloë Sevigny and once had sex with Ginger Spice. Every other sentence started with the phrase, “when I was an editor at Rolling Stone” or “I think I have cancer.” At one point he stood up and said “I have to whiz.” He had never heard of Purple Magazine or Beatrice Inn and I was like: "what a hillbilly".



We did bond over a shared love of Judy Blume and the fact that we didn’t understand the internet generation. He also told me he had a small penis and that he was poor. Of all the people I know, I definitely have the worst boundaries, but Mike’s boundaries were so poor that he made me look like a repressed WASP.


 He walked me home, and it looked like he might be shorter than me and I was like: "I can't deal." I went inside, called my friend Lisa, and said “Yup. Neurotic just like the rest of them.” Then he called on the other line and asked if I wanted to see a movie on Saturday. I said “sure, I guess.” I had nothing better to do.


We met outside Sunshine Cinema two days later. Mike asked what I had been up to and I told him and he said “you do a lot of stuff, don’t you?” And I said “yeah.” And he said “are you avoiding your life?” And I was like, "uhh.” I looked into his eyes and was like, wow, he’s kind of deep and hot. The movie started and was about runaway Mexican kids who jump trains, and two minutes in he leaned over and said: “when I was an editor at Rolling Stone I did that.” 


After the movie we went to The Pink Pony, and sat at the bar. We were just talking and talking. I told him about the Chris Farley book I’d just read and he told me about the biography of John Belushi, and I was learning so much from him already, which was a major turn-on.All the guys I’d ever dated were totally tormented and creative and mean, which I used to find sexy. Mike was the first guy I’d ever met who was tormented and creative and nice — it was quite a beguiling combination.



I know it sounds so dumb and dramatic but I remember saying at one point, “I’m unhappy,” and Mike was like, “me, too,” but it wasn’t weird. It felt like we were in the middle of a conversation that we’d started years and years before. I think that’s when I really fell for him. We kissed goodnight in the car ride home and I literally saw the words “My last first kiss” parade across my head. The next day he called to tell me that he taped Grey Gardens for me on VHS — without any irony.

On one of our first dates he picked me up in an Aston Martin and we drove upstate. He fixed my air conditioner and hooked up my TV. He was so loving and invited me to meet his family right away. He was just the most sexy, complicated, hilarious, wild, and brilliant man that I had ever met. Not to mention his penis size was rivaled only by Hulk Hogan’s.


One night eight months later he asked me where did I see myself in ten years, and when I told him it was with him he asked if I would marry him. I cried and texted my sister our emergency text code MAYDAY that had only been used once before when I saw Jennifer Aniston at The Smile.



I started planning our wedding and settled on The Metropolitan building. It seemed like the perfect mellow venue to have a Sunday afternoon brunch with all our friends and family. In the end, the wedding really focused around our ceremony, which Mike and I created together with the help of our cool rabbi Amichai. Mike sang me a Nick Cave song, we wrote our own vows and signed our ketubah. 


Afterwards, everyone sat down to brunch inspired by my Nana's cooking. I’ve never once danced at a wedding in my life; I am usually the one in the corner eating all the wedding cake and giving everyone dirty looks, so there was just a lot of hanging out. Late afternoon Mike and I got in an Audi S8 with “Just Married” written in shaving cream on the back.


When we were home we laid around in our underwear, looked at our loot, and went out for ribs and fries with a crisp hundred dollar bill. The next morning we flew to Anguilla and spent the week reading books in the sun and watching Mad Men and making out. Sometimes to this day I still make Mike whisper into my ear when we're in bed “Will you marry me?” We named our first child — a delicious little girl — Sunny, after Sunshine Cinema, the scene of the crime where it all went down.