“I was toldThe average girl begins to plan her wedding at the age of 7She picks the colors and the cake firstBy the age of 10 She knows time,And locationBy 17She’s already chosen a gown2 bridesmaidsAnd a maid of honorBy 23 She’s waiting for a manWho wont break out in hives when he hears the word “commitment”Someone who doesn’t smell like a Band-Aid drenched in lonely Someone who isn’t a temporary solution to the empty side of the bedSomeoneWho’ll hold her hand like it’s the only one they’ve ever seenTo be honestI don’t know what kind of tux I’ll be wearingI have no clue what want my wedding will look likeBut I imagineThe women who pins my last to hersWill butterfly down the aisleLike a 5 foot promiseI imagineHer smileWill be so large that you’ll see it on google mapsAnd know exactly where our wedding is being heldThe woman that I plan to marryWill have champagne in her walkAnd I will get drunk on her footstepsWhen the pastor asksIf I take this woman to be my wifeI will say yes before he finishes the sentenceI’ll apologize later for being impoliteBut I will also explain himThat our first kiss happened 6 years agoAnd I’ve been practicing my “Yes”For past 2, 165 daysWhen people ask me about my weddingI never really know what to sayBut when they ask me about my future wifeI always tell themHer eyes are the only Christmas lights that deserve to be seen all year longI sayShe thinks too muchMisses her fatherLoves to laughAnd she’s terrible at lyingBecause her face never figured out how to do it correctlI tell themIf my alarm clock sounded like her voiceMy snooze button would collect dust I tell themIf she came in a bottleI would drink her until my vision is blurry and my friends take away my keysIf she was a bookI would memorize her table of contentsI would read her cover-to-coverHoping to find typosJust so we can both have a few things to work onBecause aren’t we all unfinished?Don’t we all need a little editing?Aren’t we all waiting to be proofread by someone?Aren’t we all praying they will tell us that we make sense She don’t always make senseBut her imperfections are the things I love about her the mostI don’t know when I will be marriedI don’t know where I will be marriedBut I do know thisWhenever I’m asked about my future wifeI always say…She’s a lot like you”

“Todd!” she says again but this time in a way that asks me to look at her and I do and she stops Angharrad at the edge of the square and she’s looking at me, looking right into my eyes–And I read her–And I know exactly what she’s thinking–And my Noise and my heart and my head fill up fit to burst, fill up like I’m gonna explode–Cuz she’s saying–She’s saying with her eyes and her face and her whole self–“I know,” I say back to her, my voice husky. “Me, too.”And then I turn to the Mayor and I’m filled with her, with her love for me and my love for her–And it makes me big as an effing mountain–And I take it and I slam all of it into the Mayor–”

“You didn’t answer my question. I asked you about being in love. You said what it was like when your wife went away.”Martin sat down again. How young she is. When we were that young we invented the world, no one could tell us a thing. Julia stood with her hands clenched, as though she wanted to pound an answer out of him. “Being in love is…anxious,” he said. “Wanting to please, worrying that she will see me as I really am. But wanting to be known. That is…you’re naked, moaning in the dark, no dignity at all…I wanted her to see me and to love me even though she knew everything I am, and I knew her. Now she’s gone, and my knowledge is incomplete. So all day I imagine what she is doing, what she says and who she talks to, how she looks. I try to supply the missing hours, and it gets harder as they pile up, all the time she’s been gone. I have to imagine. I don’t know, really. I don’t know any more.”

“Dear Son, I would call you by name, but I’m waiting for your mother to decide. I only hope she is joking when she calls you Albert Dalbert. For weeks now I have watched your mother zealously gather her tokens for this box. She’s so afraid of you not knowing anything about her, and it bothers me greatly that you’ll never know her strength firsthand. I’m sure by the time you read this, you’ll know everything I do about her. But you’ll never know her for yourself and that pains me most of all. I wish you could see the look on her face whenever she talks to you. The sadness she tries so hard to hide. Every time I see it, it cuts through me. She love you so much. You’re all she talks about. I have so many orders from her for you. I’m not allowed to make you crazy the way I do your Uncle Chris. I’m not allowed to call the doctors every time you sneeze and you are to be allowed to tussle with your friends without me having a conniption that someone might bruise you. Nor am I to bully you about getting married or having kids. Ever. Most of all, you are allowed to pick your own car at sixteen. I’m not supposed to put you in a tank. We’ll see about that one. I refuse to promise her this last item until I know more about you. Not to mention, I’ve seen how other people drive on the roads. So if you have a tank, sorry. There’s only so much changing man my age can do. I don’t know what our futures will hold. I only hope that when all is said and done, you are more like your mother than you are like me. She’s a good woman. A kind woman. Full of love and compassion even though her life has been hard and full of grief. She bears her scars with a grace, dignity, and humor that I lack. Most of all, she has courage the likes of which I haven’t witnessed in centuries. I hope with every part of me that you inherit all her best traits and none of my bad ones. I don’t really know what more to say. I just thought you should have something of me in here too. Love, Your father (Wulf)”

“No, Geo—underneath all that, Nan really loves me. It’s just she wants me to see things her way. You know, she’s two years older; that meant a lot when we were children. I’ve always thought of her as being sort of like a road—I mean, she leads somewhere. With her, I’ll never lose my way.”

“It never occurred to me that somehow women did know about it. It just never occurred to me. Yes I am wearing sneakers too. You are in a suit, I am comfortable. So when she explained to me that this was the first event really of its kind, it floored me. So I called my daughter who is in her 30s now and I said “do you know what endometriosis is?” She said, “what? Have to pack the pack the busters.”I said “no man, you have never heard of it?” No she said. I do not know what it is, and it occurred to me that my 30-year-old daughter who I told about endometriosis and it didn’t stick. If she didn’t know, and she is one of the hippest people I know, and her daughter doesn’t know, she has 19-year-old and she is a 13-year-old. The boy, we don’t care much about if he knows about it so much. There is other stuff for him to learn. Like how to roll a condom, things like that.You know, and it occurred to me that if they didn’t know that there were hundreds of thousands girls out there that don’t know. It is not because their mothers don’t want to tell them, because it’s not religion, it’s pure ignorance. We don’t know, we don’t have the information, we have it now, and so now is why this very first gathering is happening. Now is why we’re all sitting here looking really fabulous as you are...[Whoopi Goldberg on endometriosis awareness from the 2009 Blossom Ball]”