Isn't Love All You Need?
By Kit-Bacon Gressitt
CHAPTER 1. They meet at a mutual friend’s wedding.
“Oh yes, hi! Audry’s told me so much about you!”
“Oh yeah? Should I duck?”
“No, no. She’s your most ardent fan — and a great sales rep. My little heart’s going pitter patter in your manly presence.”
“She’s told me a whole lot about you too — every factoid of it favorable, of course, intentionally tailored to the male on the prowl. So, I suppose this is a set up?”
“We’d be fools not to admit it. But she does have lovely taste. Perhaps we should sample the glass before we reject the vintage?”
“Oh, who cares if she’s playing Yenta? We’re the only two left at this shindig who’re young enough to remain upright without assistance. How about asking me to dance?”
“Dance? With you? Here, now? Well sure, yeah, I’d like that, a lot.”
CHAPTER 2. They close down the Moose Lodge Community Banquet Hall, drawing the last, weary notes from Joey Brown and His Band of Renown, a quintet that relies heavily on the Polka. But this isn’t the end of it. …
“Hi, I’m glad you called — a movie sounds good!”
“You sound good, exceptionally good. I, I’m attracted to you, and I’d like to explore this further.”
“You sound surprised?”
“Welp, dating’s no man’s forte. It’s always an adventure.”
“I understand, and I’m happy you’ve overcome your male enculturation. Forthright ranks high in my book; it’s a rare treat. Bravo! So, were you thinking sherpas and yaks, or something a bit more tame that would allow me to get all dolled up?”
“Ah ha, there’s a smart aleck lurking beneath that conservative exterior. I like that!”
CHAPTER 3. After many movies, moonlit beach strolls, sunsets — and sunrises — things are serious.
“Are you awake, Babe?”
“Well, wake up, please? I had to take a leak, and standing there, I realized I have a status report I have to deliver.”
“Yes, now. You, you are my joy, my anguish, my passion, my frustration, my effervescence, my hope. I thank God for nudging you across my errant path.”
“Oh, Sweetie, you know I love you, too. I love living with you, cooking for you, sewing your buttons back on. I’d be happy to grow old and crotchety with you — and wipe the drool from your chin.”
CHAPTER 4. Love is sweet, but not without its hurdles.
“Oh God, your mother detested me! She hated my outfit. She hated my hair. She hated my sense of humor. She hated my teeth. She hates me!”
“But, Babe, a good portion of the population hates you — oh come on, that was a joke. Where is that outrageous sense of humor when you need it most? Look, Babe, she just met you. And admit it: You’re not what she had envisioned for me all these years.”
“I know, I know. She was hoping for the four Bs: blond, beautiful, Bryn Mawr grad, baby-making material. Right?”
“Wrong. When it comes right down to it, she just wants me to be happy. And she did give you shortbread to bring home. She makes you shortbread; you’re in. So, relax. She’ll come to love you — but never as much as I absolutely adore every iota of you. I want you to be within reach always. Seriously, I want to be with you forever. Look, I’ll wash the dishes to my dying day, if you’ll cook. Will you marry me?”
“Yes, yes indeed I will!”
CHAPTER 5. And Tom and Harry live happily ever after in wedded bliss.
Don't deny someone's child — perhaps your own — the right to marriage.