You can stand under my umbrella

"I'll have what she's having."
~When Harry Met Sally

Tonight's a late night at the office, and I find myself pretty grateful that I don't have to rush home and cook dinner or do laundry for a husband. I mean yeah, it would be nice for someone to give a crap how my day has been, but generally speaking, I have girlfriends for that (see yesterday's post).

Suffice it to say that it's not often I yearn for coupledom. There are only two certainties in life--death and taxes--and both of those would be easier as a Mrs. The latter for obvious reasons, and the former due to the apprehension I feel about having no one to care for me in my old age and inevitable loony bin intake.

So I'm happily single. Footloose and fancy free to work late and eat a power bar for dinner.

But as I gaze out my office window, I see my coworker Carol's husband, Larry, pulling up in front of the office in the torrential rain. He gets out of the vehicle, pops a golf umbrella emblazoned with the Missouri Tigers logo (her favorite team) and walks to the front door to escort her to the car so she won't get wet.

At that moment I realize that's what love is. It's not about the fancy gifts or tax breaks. It's about anticipating someone else's needs, and taking care of it before they even have to ask. It's about holding an umbrella. Ella, ella, ella.

Guess I'll just be getting wet.

+1 {fail}

I seldom suffer from a lack of confidence. Put me in a meeting and I'm not afraid to speak up. Because most of the time, I think I have something important to add. I am (semi-) well educated, well traveled, and have a lot of amazing friends.

So I walk around with my head held high, secure in my place in the world and my contributions to it. I am woman, hear me roar.

But on the random days I prance to the mailbox and find a social invitation, my confidence plummets. There, in what I interpret as a mocking tone, I read the words that strike fear into my heart: "Lori and Guest."

I hate the plus one. I vacillate between an RSVP of regret and securing a pity date. I wonder which poor guy friend I can drag to a wedding or cocktail party or black tie dinner. I question if I have the guts to walk in alone or whether to become the third or fifth wheel to one of my married girlfriends.

Yeah, here's my dirty little secret: "and guest" makes me feel like a big fat failure.

Because, let's face it, from the moment we're born we're conditioned to be part of a pair. No one wants to invite the single gal to a dinner party. No one likes to go to the theatre alone. And even though I'm sure the bride's parents aren't sad about one serving of chicken instead of two, slow dances weren't meant to be solo.

So forgive me if I seem off my game, because this week I've been invited to a wedding, a charity fundraiser, and a birthday party. All three invites said "Lori and Guest." And even though marriage would certainly have tax benefits, more than anything else, it would be great not to stress about my plus one.

But when I discussed this with a married pal earlier this evening, she responded: "I would love to not have a permadate for every event and instead just go with a friend and have fun." Hmmm... the grass is always greener on the other side of the bed.

Oscar is a man

Is there some sort of Academy Award marriage curse? Most of the women who've won the Best Actress statue lately have headed to divorce court right after Oscar was placed on the mantle. Reece Witherspoon, Julia Roberts, Halle Berry, Hillary Swank, and Kate Winslet all found themselves single after winning as a wife. And now, just days after Sandra Bullock won the (well deserved) Best Actress trophy, rumors of her husband's infedelity have the gossip sites buzzing with marital discord.

In addition to Oscar recognition, the other common thread among these women is that they have seemingly overshadowed their husbands, and most men can't deal with that. Ryan Phillippe may have some killer abs, but he's never won an Oscar. Sam Mendes directed Winslet in "Revolutionary Road," but she got the glory. At least when Uma Thurman and Ethan Hawke divorced, he was man enough to say, "It's tough when your spouse is more successful than you." And then he traded her in for the nanny.

Perhaps it's more prominent in a town where the spotlight shines brightly on a few and thousands of others clamor around it, but when your wife is famous and you are less so, I guess it can be tough to take. Unless you're cameraman Danny Moder.

But I know there are men out there who happily allow their wives to shine. There are women out there who don't dream smaller dreams to accommodate their husbands' egos. Wives shouldn't have to be less just so their husbands feel like more.

Just the other day a guy I know called to tell me how amazing his wife was. And he wasn't talking about in the kitchen or in the bedroom, but at her job. You could tell how proud he was. More men should be like that. (I won't reveal who it was, but I will tell you he's related to me.)

Consider this: when Jack fell down and broke his crown, maybe Jill shouldn't have come tumbling after. Perhaps she should have helped him up, fixed his crown, and made the kids dinner, with no apologies for her success.

For richer, for poorer

Forget living in sin; living in singleness is too expensive a luxury.

As a very happy Ms., I'm seldom in a hurry to rush down the aisle. Granted, I look forward to registering at Pottery Barn and buying fabulous strappy sandals, but the idea of sharing a bed and closet space isn't so appealing. I don't mind saying "I do," but I do mind agreeing to be submissive. I refuse to be seen but not heard.

I have considered taking a husband in the event that I need a bug squashed or a convenient plus one for parties, but when thinking past the honeymoon phase to the part of marriage when men no longer feel the need to close the bathroom door and women no longer feel the need to shave, the idea of being a Mrs. loses a lot of luster. Sometime before the top tier of the wedding cake is removed from the freezer and subsequently finds its way into the trash, the trashy lingerie is somehow replaced by flannel pajamas, and Crappily Ever After begins.

But in these tough times of increased taxes and growing government, I'm seriously thinking about a 1040 marriage. I don't necessarily want to set up house with a hubby, but I would like to celebrate wedded bliss via a joint tax filing. I would love to get a big tax refund to split into our separate bank accounts.

Think about it... all of the benefits of a marriage and none of the inconveniences! A closet and a bed all to myself. An emergency contact but no need to explain why I'm running late or need another pair of black shoes. Wedding gifts but no wedding night. Cash from family and friends for the nuptials; cash from the government for legal bondage.

A marriage of convenience, so to speak.

If the INS investigates so-called "green card marriages," I wonder who would check out a 1040 union for legitimacy. I can see it now... an IRS official deeming my nuptials bogus because we both seem too happy in our separate households. "Ma'am, you don't look mad enough, and sir, you're in too good of shape to be actually married. You're being deported back to the highest tax bracket."

And really, how much would my 1040 marriage change my life, other than possibly a name hyphenation and checking the "married" box on the occasional form? Granted, that would be a really awkward first date conversation to have with someone. And I'd have to change my Facebook status to "in an open relationship," but 1040 hubby and I would never have to argue about whose family to visit during the holidays.

Besides, I could buy so many more handbags with my marriage tax refund.

So if you know any single men looking for a marriage of taxation convenience, send 'em my way. I think this could be the new relationship trend.

I'll have what she's having

The difference between single girls and married girls is more marked than tax brackets and salutations. It's a classic case of "the grass is always greener" I suppose.

Never is this more apparent than during Girls' Night Out festivities. The Mrs./Mommy camp need to escape from desperate housewife-ness to a hotel room and nice restaurant. The Miss contingent often considers a weekend of being at home a nice change from eating out and constant travel.

The Mrs. group wants to trade in yoga pants and carpools for short skirts and sexy boots. The Miss cohort wishes they were at home in yoga pants and flip flops.

The marrieds want to flirt with guys at the bar. The singles know he's most likely (a) married; (b) gay; (c) a commitmentphobe; or (d) a crazy stalker who will incessantly call/text/generally not get the hint after a bad date. Stop questioning our high standards; we're not picky so much as tired of picking out losers.

Somewhere between the first date and the crappily ever after, some married women start to envy the life of the single gal. After all, we don't have to justify how many pair of shoes we own. We can sleep in until noon on the weekends. We don't have to wonder if anyone drank straight out of the milk carton. The toilet seat is always down when we need it. We always have control over the remote.

And yeah, we can go out and party every night. But we don't. Because it's not as much fun when you're alone.

So maybe your husband has gained some weight or lost some hair since you married him. And maybe he's not as romantic as you'd like. But you never have to worry about slipping in the shower and no one finding your body for days. You don't have to skip weddings and other social events because you have no one to be your plus one.

You may love the occasional nights of a bed all to yourself, but you don't have to stress about always sleeping alone. We pay higher taxes. We squash our own bugs. We pay premium to have things shipped that are too heavy for us to carry.

It can be lonely. It can be fabulous. No one liked it enough to put a ring on it, after all. So drink up, married women. Your life isn't so bad.

All the single ladies put your hands up

There are many advantages to being single, not the least of which is the ability to own many shoes and handbags without need for justification. It's also great to always maintain control of the remote and not have to clean whiskers out of the sink or other unmentionables out of the toilet (not that I clean my own toilet, but you catch my drift). No one steals my covers or leaves empty milk cartons in my fridge. Tax breaks aside, most of the time it's great to be a single gal.

One of the downsides of being single, however, is the propensity of married women to assume you're after their husbands. Rest assured, we are not. While we may find them amusing and smart and want to retain their friendship, most of the time, we wouldn't want them if they were single. And especially not if they've said "I do."

So when you call your hubby and find out he's hanging out with a single gal, don't assume the worst. After all, he told you the truth, so there's probably nothing to hide.

End of soapbox. For now.

When I said "I do," I meant that "I might"

I know, I know. I have absolutely no business talking about marriage because I've never been close to being there. Perhaps one of the biggest reasons why is because I take it very seriously. It's a life-long commitment. And it pains me that marriage these days has become so disposable.

While it may be easy to switch phone companies when your current one isn't meeting your needs, the same shouldn't be said for your spouses. If I'm not mistaken, you said " 'til death do us part." Not " 'til something better comes along."

I have so many friends who've recently divorced not of their own choice. It's painful to watch them go through that process, because it wasn't what they wanted. But they had spouses who thought their life would magically improve if they were unmarried.

After all, those "Sex and the City" chicks have glamorous lives, and they're single. So suddenly being single means that you'll have a glamorous life, right?

Yeah, not so much. And those girls didn't kick out husbands in order to sip on cosmos.

Marriage is a commitment, people. But it ain't always easy. I have a lot of respect for people like my aunt Kathy, who's been married to my uncle Paul for 37 years. And yeah, he's awesome most of the time, but if she wasn't the person that she is, she'd have probably left him a long time ago to travel the world looking for garage sales and eBay treasures.

But instead, she's honored her commitment because she loves him and she realizes that you have good times and bad times and sometimes you have to compromise to be a Mrs.

Since marriage is on the downhill slide, I'm wondering if we're going to start trading in our children next. "Junior, I'm kicking you out of your room for that boy down the street. He's better at sports."

A friend of mine once told me, "No one ever tells you when you get married that some days you'll wake up, look at your husband beside you, and think, 'I can't stand you.' " But she does stand him. She's still married to him.

So kudos to all of you men and women who are honoring your vows. Half of America can't do it. I respect those of you who choose each day to love your spouse, even if there is someone out there who's better looking, richer, or appreciates you more.

Here's to marriage, that grand institution.