After two years, the man who bought a lifetime subscription to TiVo without trying it finally committed to a lifetime subscription to Tracey Spadolini.
All Tracey wants is to get hitched without a hitch-but as the calendar marches toward her late-October wedding date, suddenly she and her fianc� can't agree on anything. From where to get married (New York City or Buffalo?) to how many attendants they're going to have (she's already asked eight; he was thinking of just a best man). Meanwhile, Tracey's friends are caught up in their own dramas. There's newlywed Raphael, who just had his gay wedding; newly pregnant Kate, who is trying to adjust to impending motherhood; and Buckley, who is acting inexplicably strange. When Buckley unexpectedly breaks off his own engagement, all but leaving his fianc�e at the altar, Tracey is stunned to learn that he might be in love with her.
With plenty of snafus to keep them distracted, is being Slightly Married the road to happily ever after, after all?
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Red Dress Ink
June 14, 2012
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Excerpt from Slightly Married by Wendy Markham
Meet Jack Candell, the man who bought a lifetime subscription to TiVo without first trying it out, yet spent six painstaking months in possession of an heirloom diamond engagement ring and no clue how--or when--or, I suspect, if--he should propose to me.
But all that excruciating will--he--or--won't--he suspense is behind us now. Jack has finally committed to a lifetime subscription to Tracey Spadolini, live--in girlfriend of two--plus years.
What can be more romantic than getting engaged on Valentine's Day?
I'll tell you: getting engaged on Valentine's Day on the heels of your best friend's gay wedding while wearing a redand--black brocade bridesmaid's gown, your scalp coated with sleet and the Aussie spritzed remnants of an elegant updo, as your fianc� kneels in the slushy gutter on West Broadway.
Maybe you had to be there.
Well, I was, and believe me, hearing Jack's long--awaited, heartfelt proposal--and saying yes--was the most romantic, exhilarating event of my life.
The afterglow has lingered all the way uptown on the subway and throughout the short walk home from the Ninety--sixth Street station to our building. At this point, I'm bursting with joy, anxious to share the news and show off the ring. Too bad Jimmy, our favorite doorman, is off duty most Saturdays.
In his place tonight is Gecko, a dour old chatterbox who, if you say anything more than a polite hello in passing, will hold you captive in the lobby for hours with his ongoing monologue about his gout and diverticulitis, what he can and can't eat these days, and graphic detail about the effect on his various bodily functions if he disobeys the gastroenterologist's orders.
I wisely keep my hand in my pocket and afterglow to myself as we pass him.
But the glow resumes as Jack puts his arm around me on the journey up to our f loor, even though we're sharing the elevator with a trio of yapping terriers and Quint, the effete neighborhood dog walker, clad in what looks suspiciously like lederhosen.
You know how some things in life can never quite live up to the anticipation? Like Christmas, losing your virginity and biting into your first Hostess Twinkie after a week on Atkins?
Well, for once, I'm not even slightly disappointed. I'm pleased to report that so far, being engaged is every bit as exhilarating as I thought it would be.
I walk on air toward the door to apartment 9K with a marquis--cut diamond newly twinkling on the fourth finger of my left hand and my future husband--husband, people!--by my side.
My mental string orchestra is launching into yet another lilting version of "Isn't It Romantic" when my beloved glances down, grimaces and informs me, "My feet are soaked. They're going to stink to high heaven when I take off these shoes."
Yeah,well,better stinky than cold, I think, undaunted, and my private orchestra plays a little louder to drown out any other unromantic proclamations Jack might be inclined to spout.
At least he hasn't informed me that he has to piss like a racehorse, which is a frequent mood--dampening line of his.
Jack retrieves his keys from the pocket of his overcoat as we cover the last few steps to our apartment. I do my best to focus on the afterglow lest my thoughts wander to his potentially stinky feet or my own throbbing ones crammed into fugly bridesmaid's shoes.
You're getting married! You're finally engaged!
Amazing. Does life get any better than this?
I imagine that from here on in, everything is going to be different. Food will taste more delicious, sex will be more fulfilling, plans...