I grew up assuming I would never get married, because marriage was for thin women. What I needed to hear was that that you can be fat and happy and in love.
A few weeks back I was sitting at a bar, holding hands with my fiance, when a woman recognised me from the internet (it happens, I swear!). She was a fan of my writing, so she came up to introduce herself, and we shambled through a few minutes of pleasant chit-chat. Sensing the conversation was running out of steam, she asked me one of the questions that people always ask me in those awkward, floundering moments: “So, what’s it like to work from home? Aren’t you lonely?”
“Not really,” I said. I gestured to my fiance, a musician. “He works from home, too. It’s hard to feel alone when there’s a guy constantly playing the trumpet in your face.”
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