[voiceover] When I was seventeen it was a not so very good year. I married a guy named Mark who was twenty-two. The whole thing lasted thirty-six hours. Seventeen, twenty-two, thirty-six. It didn't add up. It's hard to believe there was a version of me capable of diving head first into the shallow end like that. These days a guy buying me a drink kicks off an internal debate long enough to put my thirty-six hour marriage, however redundantly, to shame. After which, he's moved on to someone else. Someone who is both presumably sane and thirsty.
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