Mama, on the other hand, has a tendency to confuse stress with misery. I’m also not I Dream of Jeannie, so I can’t exactly twitch my nose and drum up husband number two the way she keeps hoping I will. Yes, it would be nice to have a man that could fulfill all my fantasies, but in all honesty, I don’t even know what they are anymore. Three years after my divorce, I was in an emotional funk. It felt like the person I’d loved the hardest had died and I was mourning his loss. His name was Nathan. He is my son’s father. I can’t stand his ass now. For eight long years I gave him the benefit of the doubt. He said one thing, but did another. He could’ve passed the bar the first time, but deep down inside I don’t think he felt worthy. He sabotaged his own greatness by succumbing to failure, because failure was easier. But it wasn’t attractive. I got tired of pumping up his ego when he never reciprocated. My business was flourishing and he couldn’t even pretend to be happy for me. In fact, he resented it. But somebody had to wear some kind of pants in the family, or we would’ve been up shit’s creek. It got harder and harder to love Nathan. He was no longer the politically charged idealist, that spontaneous male engine that kept me up nights describing outrageous court cases in one breath and making love to me the next. He lost interest in the law, and I guess I was next in line. I didn’t really think he’d leave, or run back home to his family in Atlanta. But that’s exactly what he did. I doubt if I’ll ever love another man with the same intensity and conviction, but I also hate Nathan for disappointing me and our son. I hate him for not fighting harder for what he wanted—for not living up to his own expectations. I hate him for not being happy for me because I was living up to mine. I wanted him to feel good about my accomplishments. Wanted him to be proud of me. Is that so hard for a husband to do? In Nathan’s case, I suppose it was, because he bailed out of the airplane before he even knew if it was going to crash.

But Nathan did give me one gift he couldn’t take back: Dingus. My son gives my life a sense of purpose. He’s almost seventeen, and I still like him. He shows me respect. Doesn’t have a smart mouth. I’m grateful I didn’t have a daughter. If I had’ve, I’d probably be going crazy about now, just like Charlotte and Janelle.

Budget breakdown. Just look at an old invoice and prorate it based on the number of guests. If I remember correctly, for 40 people it should be in the neighborhood of about $4,000. Who had the last Moroccan party? Check the files. And don’t forget to give Mariah a break on the price for being such a loyal client.