Fortunately (I believe) we are no longer shackled to the demands of blood and money in marital matches, as Trollope's Frank Gresham is repeatedly reminded by his family. (I warn you that Trollope's wit is done a great disservice by such a dry synopsis, the sad fate of many a synopses, so dear reader, listen to Lavar Burton and read the book.) Of course, we have not cast of the bonds completely; our greedy tendencies have merely settled in deeper, darker spots: I ain't sayin she a gold digger but if she starts demanding a push present, you may have more to argue about than who changes the 4 a.m. diaper. (Coincidentally, I did write a piece on this topic before the NYTimes. There was just that niggling issue of publication.)
But if you do happen to find yourself blissfully ensconced in matrimony, regardless of money or blood, there remains at least one battleground: the in-laws--one I never really feared because my own relations were and are a source of joy and delight (and yes, the occasional annoyance). But I have found recently found myself, albeit in-law-less myself, dispensing two pieces of advice for the wedded:
- Write it all down. I'm not sure of Trollope's matrimonial relations, but such character sketches and plot lines come free of charge. (I must give credit to an anonymous acquaintance for this observation.)
- Read, and if needed, write to my guilty pleasure. All advice comes with a good serving of snark, which really is something our dear Abby could use.
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