I Need a Husband!
Written by Edward ChampionPosted on February 13, 2008
Filed Under Atlantic Monthly, Edward Champion, Lazy Journalism, Lori Gottlieb, Relationships, Sexism, Women
About six months after I continued to remain happy and childless, I saw a woman sitting with her son on a blanket. Her name, I later discovered, was Lori and she was there with her friend Caitlin. It was a sunny summer weekend, and there were parents and kids picnicking nearby.
The day had been going fine, until Lori started checking out my ass in a really intense way. Which was odd, because I have an okay ass. Nothing to write home about. I guess it was an ass you could settle for. Of course, when pressed, I can shake my booty as well as anybody else. Still, it was somewhat disheartening to have someone checking out my ass without even having the courtesy to introduce herself.
“Excuse me,” said Lori. “Are you married?”
“What? Why, no,” I said.
“Do you shout ‘Bravo!’ in movie theaters?”
“Sometimes. When it’s an action movie.”
She introduced herself. She then asked if she could smell my breath. I told her that I needed one minute to suck on a breath mint. She told me that breath mints weren’t necessary. I informed her that her request was quite unusual. And she then grabbed the roll of BreathSavers out of my hand and stomped my mints into chalky powder. She insisted that I had halitosis. This was not true.
“Hey, you owe me a buck for those BreathSavers!”
“I want a husband,” she said.
“What for? What do you really long for?”
“An angle for this Atlantic article I’m writing. Well, actually, a husband. I’m very worried about that. Every single woman I know feels panic about this. I need to marry and reproduce.”
I then noticed that she was taking notes.
“You know, you don’t need a husband to be happy,” I said. “Mr. Right often comes along when you least expect it.”
“I need a husband now.”
Lori didn’t blink as she said this. I was starting to get an Ira Levin vibe.
“Yeah, and I’d love to write for The New Yorker. It’ll probably never happen. But that doesn’t stop me from writing or living.”
“You don’t understand. I need a husband now.”
“Well, if that’s the case, go get one.”
I started to walk away. I considered calling 911. Lori was starting to give me the creeps. There was a wild look in her eyes.
“Will you be my husband?”
I was unnerved by Lori. I knew many well-adjusted single women in their thirties and forties who were living fantastic lives. And they were doing this entirely without partners.
“Are you The One?”
“No!” I shouted.
She then consulted a complicated Powerpoint presentation on her laptop. There was a red text box with the words MUST MARRY MAN NOW! flashing in bright white text.
“Are you my soul mate?”
“Look, Lori, I don’t know you, but I think you need help.”
“I need to marry somebody. Someone who can help me pop out 1.2 children from my uterus. Will you marry me and help me pop out 1.2 children? I have one son. I need 1.2 more so that I can live the perfect dream. Are you Mr. Good Enough?”
“I’m Mr. Champion.”
Lori then complained to her friend Caitlin that I wasn’t cooperating. Caitlin suggested that they should go home and watch the final episode of Friends to get some additional ideas for Lori’s article. And that was the last I saw of them.
I didn’t understand Lori’s problem. If only she would stop with the whole “I need a husband” nonsense and accept that life happens when you make other plans, maybe she might get her wish.
But it was good to meet someone who wrote for The Atlantic. I was pretty sure that Lori would read a few books on the subject, talk to some noted experts on relationships and human behavior, cite a few studies, and write a very thoughtful article without a single generalization about gender. After all, The Atlantic was a respected magazine that attracted only the best writers.
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Books To Jump Up and Down Over
Beyond Heaving Bosoms by Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan. The famed writers behind Smart Bitches, Trashy Books have written a very funny and thoughtful volume about romances, both Old Skool and New Skool. Here is a book that any smug and humorless literary manboy beating his flabby passive chest over Banville or Bolano should probably read pronto, if only for the distant possibility that he might get over himself. While the Choose Your Own Adventure segment at the end caused me to have a very disturbing dream involving Shelley Long (don't ask), Sarah and Candy did have me rethinking many of my own misperceptions when I wasn't busy laughing. They're not afraid to take on the New York Times Bok Review or even the groupthink within certain sectors of the romance community.
Alice Fantastic by Maggie Estep. This wild and highly enjoyable narrative involves two sisters (presumably, the third one was still being rented out by Chekhov), a hippie ex-junkie mother who lives with seventeen dogs, a murder, gambling, and libidinous Hollywood actresses who live in Woodstock. But this is the wonderful Maggie Estep we're talking here. And what seems at first like a quirky yarn becomes something unexpectedly moving about connectivity. What I love about Estep's work is the way that she'll juxtapose an extremely astute observation (now that you mention it, why do cab drivers always have somebody to talk with on the phone past midnight?) with an often outrageous story development.
Generosity by Richard Powers. It doesn't come out until September 29th, but Richard Powers's latest will have anyone committed to books reconsidering their literary fervor. I foresee some animosity from the vanilla critics hostile to idea-driven novels, but book bloggers, YouTube chroniclers, and MFAs would do well to plunge into this chance-taking narrative, which introduces vital questions about what the reader's relationship is with media, scientific dissection, and "creative nonfiction." Are we rats fleeing to happy cities? Or can we find the humanism within the purported plague?
Pieces for the Left Hand by J. Robert Lennon. Lennon is one of the most underrated fiction writers working today. Much as On the Night Plain proved that Lennon had a lot more in the toolbox than heartfelt (and often very funny) suburban satire, this slim but fascinating volume juxtaposes 100 small-town anecdotes -- arranged by category -- in a manner that reads, at times, like Nicholson Baker's passions for minutiae and, at other times, Stewart O'Nan's concern for psychological detail. The result is fiction that makes us wonder about whether one person's subjective view of particulars can entirely be trusted. This book never found a publisher in 2005. But thankfully, Graywolf has released it in the United States, along with Lennon's latest novel, The Castle.
Wonderful World by Javier Calvo. This wonderfully raucous volume has been completely ignored by the Washington Post, the New York Times, and the Los Angeles Times. But it's probably one of the most delightful reading experiences I've had this year. Calvo cavalierly mashes up multiple genres and manages to mix up familial subtext with larger-than-life, almost cartoonish characters. (Indeed, one might argue that one mobster's penis is a character of its own in this sprawling novel.). This is not an easy thing to pull off, but Calvo makes it work. And it's helped immeasurably by Mara Faye Lethem's idiom-specific translation. (See longer post.)
The Means of Reproduction, Michelle Goldberg This thoughtful book tackles the complicated (and little discussed) subject of reproductive rights from numerous angles, which includes a number of unpleasant but necessary ones. The upshot is that there isn't a quick fix solution for declining birth rates and fundamentalist abuses. Just about every political faction has contributed to the friction. But you'll want to read this book anyway to refamiliarize yourself with the topic, but also to understand just what's occurred during the past several decades to get us where we are today. (See also podcast interview with Goldberg.)
Or send materials to:
315 Flatbush Avenue, #231
Brooklyn, NY 11217
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- Macmillan: The New Amazonfail
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You nailed it!
I was worried The Atlantic might not find anyone to replace Caitlin, but it looks like Lori has happily stepped into her crippling stilettos.
[...] I would despair, but for Ed Champion. [...]
Wow. Hilarious.
At which action movies have you shouted “Bravo!” ?
You had me until I looked her name up – I thought I was being played! Haha.
“I’m Mr. Champion.” That’s awesome. I’d marry you just to say, “I’m Mrs. Champion.” That rules.
I’m 33 and I just got dumped. Sometimes we can’t even settle. Life doesn’t always let us make choices. Who’s to say settling is the answer? You could devote your life to someone you’re not thrilled about, and they can still dump you like used kitty litter. At least I can say I enjoyed the time I wasted. If I had settled, I’d be pissed.
This woman is out of her mind.
As I read that article I thought the writer must be some kind of alien from a different planet. Does. Not. Compute.
(I didn’t know that The Atlantic was Vogue on steroids? Hmmm. I’ll stick with Harper’s.)
You’ve got me yelling “Bravo” right now. Who needs movies?
Definitely New Yorker material.
See, that sort of thing never happens to me.
I am the real Mrs. Champion.
But only because you settled for me, Erin.
He does have halitosis, after all.
[...] in the comedy section? Is it like the New Yorker’s “Shouts and Murmers”? I read Ed’s take on the article first, rather confused and concerned that he come a little undone [...]
All the other Mrs. Champions are just imitators, Erin.
Ed, have you trademarked “An ass you could settle for”? I’m envisioning a line of sweatpants with that phrase emblazoned across the rear. Kind of like the sweatpants that sorority girls wore back in the 1980s (and for all I know, still wear), but for middle-aged schlubby males like myself.
Oh, you are wicked, sir and I love it. This is exactly the commentary her writing deserves.
Oh, very well riposted, sir!
hi how are u?can u be my husbund?
i need a gentle ladie to marry
I live in ontario canada I am fourty two I raised four children alone for fourteen years
woman dont want a man and husband anymore they want money and sucess and career.
I live on one income, and pay 275.00 a month rent and heat with wood. But woman dont see that as a positive thing. I am sexual that means I am selfish? no it doesnt it means i am a normal man. I am faithful and honest
I never get drunk and I dont use drugs
but after fourteen years of being alone
you tell me then why if there are so many woman that want a husband I CANT find a wife.
I am a romantic passionate sensual sexual
honest and faithful man
I believe in God and hate religion
I know that churches lie through their teeth
and how can they get away with it? cause they know that NO ONE READS THEIR OWN BIBLE.
I think liberator furniture is fun for a couple
I think sex should be fun and time consuming
not two minutes at eleven oclock
I raised a baby alone so that makes me different and yet no woman wants a simple man
Integrity@cyg.net
fourty two and single in ontario
I need I wife
me live in cambodia and me honest gril and like to tripe and hosnet and like respect all the person and bec know me !
im 44 live n colorado! Any stable men out there?
i can be your husband, because i just lost my wife few years ago. i want you to be my friend before we start our relationship ok.if you want this relationship to start now contact my email which is hillary49@live.com
my name is williams. i can be your husband. because i need i wife like you to take good care of my child you cansend me an e.mail easywaykid@yahoo.com