I hereby formally request your hand in marriage. I understand that you may be reluctant to accept such a request from a woman with whom you have had no previous contact.

To answer such reluctance, I have itemized your potential concerns and addressed each in turn.

1. We are total strangers.

Name one dear friend who did not begin, at some point, as a stranger. Furthermore, marriages between people who were never strangers—brothers and sisters for example-are fated to political turmoil and sickly children. See Tudor Family History.

2. You are already married.

No, you are not. I checked online.

3. I may not like you.

Happily, I already like you. I liked you when your first book came out, even before the praise-tornado, and the nominations, and the interviews.

You are clever. And attractive. And yes, Dave, I would deceive you if I didn’t acknowledge that your unfortunate story contributed to my infatuation. But not because I dream of a romantic, desperate consolation. I want to marry you, not adopt you.

It’s just that, well, I like the way you hurt. I do not like that you hurt—to hurt is not elective. Every loved creature will die; to suffer is the only sensible response. But you have developed a particular technique that is full of wit, and tenderness, and communion. I am just developing my own approach: deciding how to arrange my face in the brief moments when my small world turns to see how I am taking this whole thing. I think you’ve found a damn good way to do it.

That last thought reveals me as melancholic. I can only hope you won’t dismiss me on the basis of my disposition. It just seems to me that people who are not sometimes angry, and often quite sad, can’t be paying very close attention.

4. You may not like me.

I like you, a lot. If you’re like other human beings, this matters more than you may be inclined to publicly admit. Do not underestimate the enticement of being held in high esteem. It complements the ego, and soothes those death-obsessive self-doubts that pain you writer-types. It feels good to be admired. It’s easy to like someone who makes you feel good.

Also, I am likable. Many people have done it, I am sure you could too. I am tall and pretty slender; expansive when I’m drunk; I speak well, if too much; and if there is a bottom to my sympathies, I have not plumbed it yet. In both good and bad times, I can be fine company.

Yours Truly (for now in an off-hand letter-writing sort of way, but soon I hope formalized by a legally binding social contract),

Maggie Wander

+++

Dear Mr. Gore Vidal:

I hereby formally request your hand in marriage. I understand that you may be reluctant to accept such a request from a woman with whom you have had no previous contact.

To answer such reluctance, I have itemized your potential concerns and addressed each in turn.

1.You are 70? 80? While I am a mere 24 and a half.

Some of the most well respected thinkers of our era dismiss such bourgeoisie May-December worries. To quote one such pundit, “Age Ain’t Nothin’ But a Number.” One must embrace love where it is encountered; human affections do not bow to the sovereignty of mathematical calculation.

More philosophically, being similar to one another does not make a couple well-matched. If there is a factor that safeguards love—against exhaustion, against age, and against new love—we have not yet found it. Almost nothing works out in the end Mr. Vidal. Our chances can’t be worse than anyone else’s.

Why not us?

2. You are homosexual.

a. Let’s not submit ourselves to the brittle rules that deaden American marriages. Your sexual orientation is just that—sexual! Married couples need not maintain physical intimacy. In fact, I would imagine that beyond a certain age, some couples might abstain on the advice of their cardiologists. We can keep each other fine company. Your work reveals you as an inquisitive, thoughtful man. Perhaps I can offer you some insight into contemporary urban youth culture. Ever marveled at the intricate handshakes of the city kids? I know them! We could choreograph one together. Or maybe you would like to try your hand at some illegal aerosol art? For your part, you obviously enjoy writing books that win literary awards. I would like very much to do that too.

b. Moreover, homosexual orientation is not the tragic diagnosis that it once was. Many of the most accomplished and admired theorists living in Hollywood now believe that the condition is highly treatable. I would recommend contacting Katie Holmes directly. As the newest member of one such camp, she may be able to schedule consultations on short notice. And basking in the glow of a love so pure that it mimics clinical hypomania might help my case as you contemplate my proposal!

(Please note that this offer is contingent on the refusal of David Eggers, expected shortly).

Ms. Margret Wander.

Dessa is an essayist and emcee in the Doomtree Crew out of Minneapolis, Minnesota. She is bad ass and can be contacted at: dessa@doomtree.net