
Translation: “You better get married.”

Translation: “You better get married.”
“Never get married. Your taxes will go through the roof.” –Eric’s accountant, to Eric.
So then I shot Eric’s accountant.

I just walked into my lobby alongside another young woman, who I’ve never seen before but who apparently lives in my building. We approach the mailboxes, and she points to a set of apartment keys dangling out of a mailbox.
Her: “You see those keys? That’s my husband.”
Me: (laughing) “That’s hilarious.”
Her: “Well the irony is, he would KILL me if I did something like that! I do absent minded stuff all the time and he’s so critical!”
Me: “Well then you should definitely take a photo of it and hold this over him until the end of time.”
Her (wide-eyed): “Oh my god, that’s SUCH a good idea!” (takes photo) “Brilliant. I take it you use this tactic with your husband?”
Me: “I don’t have a husband.”
Perhaps this is why.
Every once in a while, I am blown away by the sight of an older couple so obviously and tenderly in love after so many years. Like right now. I’m sitting on the subway and there is an older couple across from me. They are easily in their 80s, possibly even late 80s. They have obviously been married for a very long time– they just give off that knowing, comfortable, you-are-my-soulmate-and-you-complete-me aura. They are holding hands, and his other hand in placed gently on her leg, helping her hold her purse. They are smiling at each other, literally gazing into each other’s eyes as if they are the only two human beings in the world. And as I sit here and watch them, I can’t help but think
Get a fucking room.
(Part of the Emails From My Brothers series)
Written by my brother Jeremy, right before he moved back home at age 27.