See: we love just like everyone else.
A Natural History of My Marriage
Text and Photos by Jill McDonough
The first time I saw her, May 2, 1999, I felt like I had just been plunked down from a future in which we’d been together for decades, and I had to convince her it was me. The first time I heard her name felt like the first time I effortlessly understood overheard conversation in another language. Josey. Of course. Now everything made sense.
I won her over by writing her a poem called “Ghazal for Josey.” Every month when I repay some MFA tuition I feel smug about what a bargain I got.
An open relationship, quickly closing: only nobody you know, only out of town, only one time, only on jury duty, only sequestered, forget it.
When we had been together for six weeks I went to my friend Sudha’s wedding and got drunk and…
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