I Had No Plans To Be A

I Can Do This, I Tell Myself Firmly. I Can Be Attracted To Him. It's Just A Matter Of Self Control And Possibly Also Getting Very Drunk. So I Lift My Glass And Take Several Huge Gulps. I Can Feel The Bubbles Surging Into My Head, Singing Happily "i'm Going To Be A Millionaire's Wife! I'm Going To Be A Millionaire's Wife!" And When I Look Back At Tarquin, He Already Looks A Bit More Attractive. Alcohol Is Obviously Going To Be The Key To Our Marital Status.

I Can't Cook. I Don't Have The Right Brain For It, Somehow. I Can't Walk Into A Room And Tidy It Up. I Get Distracted. I Pick Up One Thing And I Start Looking At It. And My Cooking Is Truly Heinous.

My Childhood Was Spent Embracing One Literary Heroine After Another. I Identified Passionately With Each One And Would Slavishly Imitate Them.

If I Worked At White Globe Consulting, I Wouldn't Be Able To Do My Job. I Would Spend All Day Texting The Other People In The Office, Asking Them What Was Going On Today And Had They Heard Anything New And What Did They Think Was Going To Happen. Hmm. Maybe It's A Good Thing I'm Not In An Office Job.

Just Because Of That One Disastrous Blind Date She Had Last Year, Where The Guy Turned Out To Be Fifty-nine, Not Thirty-nine (he Claimed It Was A Typo. Yeah, I’m Sure His Finger Just Happened To Slip Two Spaces To The Left).