I Hate Kids, Old People, Tourists, You

The other night I was in the Greek seaside town of Neapoli, down at the end of Cape Meleas in the Peloponese. I arrived late, and didn’t really want to be there at all; I’d been hoping to catch a bus to Sparta, but the buses had finished for the night. Reluctantly, I checked into …

Men My Wife Likes Who Are Not Me

I am not, by nature, a jealous type. Nor am I the kind of idealistic romantic who imagines his partner could, and should, never fantasize about another person. But still, I take note whenever Jean, my wife, says she finds someone attractive. These occasions are pretty rare, but I track them, and solely to embarrass …

The Hangover, Part 2: Or, Why I Love My Wife

Years ago, before I had JP, his mother and I lived in a college town while she was working on her doctorate, and I was writing a risibly bad novel. We fought a lot even in those days, which should have been a bad sign, but which we mistook for “passion.” One particularly confrontational night, …