Training Wheels | By Betsy Carter
There is a time in everyone's life when bad luck heaps upon bad luck until you feel like a toxic-waste dump. After a succession of disasters involving a car accident, a house burning down, emergency surgery, and the breakup of my 17-year marriage, I worried that I’d become so toxic it was unsafe for other humans to be around me.
The Remedy | By Rebecca Ascher-Walsh
I wanted him the moment I saw him, loping up the hill in his football uniform. Here, with his blue eyes, dimpled smile, and padded shoulders, was the man who would save me from myself. Within days, we were a couple; within weeks, we were in love. Five months after graduation, we hyphenated our last names when we married.
Assigned Seats | By Ann Hood
Everyone thinks flight attendants have boyfriends in every city. But other than a few Mexican dinners with a shampoo magnate, a game of Boggle with a depressed salesman, and margaritas with a professional skier, I had not dated any passengers. Mostly, I just mixed their gin and tonics.
Dashboard Confessional | By Judith Newman
It was New Year’s Eve, and my husband and I were shouting about our children as we drove home from a party. Our sweet, overly sensitive, and slightly nutso boy, Augustus, had been kicked out of nursery school. Since we’d gotten the bad news a few weeks before, John—grouchy 11 months of the year, but a holidayloving fool—had been in anguish.
Ticket To Ride | By Whitney Otto
A number of years ago, before it was fashionable, I dated someone much younger than I was. Part of what made our age difference so marked was that I was just out of college, and he wasn’t yet out of high school. The six years between us were more like fifteen in dog years—mostly because he was way under the legal drinking age.
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