A high school friend just alerted me. It seems that you are missing. You are in none of my Facebook pictures, none of my instagram pictures seem to feature you, even my phone doesn’t know your number and let’s not even think about Twitter.
Obviously I couldn’t have made it to the elevated (shelf-worthy) age of 30 without you so you must exist. Somewhere, in a place Facebook pictures don’t exist. If the justification for your existence seems nebulous, you have my apologies. My femininity depends on your existence, see, so you are more potent in idea than actuality. You do exist, I think. Maybe in a cupboard? Maybe I forgot to take you out after winter ended? Maybe you went to get milk and forgot to come back?
I’m sure I love you. Why wouldn’t I? You give me legitimacy and make what I say worth hearing because a woman with a husband is so much more accomplished than a woman without (the wisdom my relatives impart). So do be a dear and show yourself occasionally.
(This was written in response to a friend asking me why she couldn’t see my husband in any of my pictures. It didn’t occur to her that maybe I didn’t have one.)
Jazzy’s note: This is just awesome. Women need to remember you don’t need to have a husband in order to have a valid existence.