Even though this is all fake, I’m starting to sweat in my suit. I still don’t know how getting married would somehow cure me of my irresponsibility, but I guess we’re about to find out. My sister is proof that not all women want marriage, but all the ones I’ve ever dated do. It’s like they think that a ring on their finger is an ironclad contract, when my mother is proof that it’s not. So if I want a woman of my own, I need to suck up all my issues and get over myself. I’ve never been more grateful for Tripp. There’s no one I’d rather be doing this with.
