Never Never Land

When I was a little girl, I was sure I was marrying Michael Jackson. I had the Thriller album opened conspicuously and sitting on top of my record player so I could stare at it from my bed and daydream that both of us were snuggling that baby tiger together. My heart always skipped a beat when I saw Ola Ray in her poodle skirt, walking and holding hands with MJ on MTV. She was me and I was her. That was my hand he was holding. And when he looked into her eyes, I could feel his stare on ME, drilling to the depths of my young and tender soul.

When a man you are going to marry goes from this magnificent work of bone-structure perfection to this paint-by-numbers post-up during your pre-pubescent years, it's no wonder you pop a few Zoloft as an adult.