A while ago, I announced my engagement; an engagement to myself. The plan was to marry myself last March, sometime when the sun waved hello. The sun never blossomed its orange buttocks into the sky, so I postponed my plans until the time felt right. Since my current homeland of Danang, Vietnam has blessed me with ripe sunshine for the last two weeks, I am taking it as a sign to push forth and marry myself sooner than later.

Vietnamese like their weddings. Though December is normally the "luckiest" month to marry, I am thinking I like the sound of June. June. June.

And, it's cheap to marry here. Rather than paying a fortune for an impractical dress you'll only wear once, you can rent them for the day. They are fluffy, ornate and look a bit like a huge dollop of whipped cream with cherries and sprinkles. Vietnamese brides tend to wear a few different dresses on their wedding day. I might just do the same. They also come in various hues of red.

As for the vows, I have begun to scribe some emotional as well as practical reasons for marrying myself onto legal tablets.

Here is what I have so far:

I shall honor your mind and feed it the right amount of literature, pornography and music.

I shall challenge you each day, and root you on with the help of backup singers and miniature cheerleaders.

I shall care for your body in sickness and in health, nourishing each follicle of hair and inner and outer cell.

I shall sing to you when you are feeling glum.

I shall not put up with your shit, and will spank any cantankerous behavior from your flatulent rump.

I will forgive you when you have betrayed me.

I will not let you falter.

I will trust each of your actions and address patterns when they arise.

I will make you pay attention and keep your lungs afloat with breath.

I will follow you wherever you choose to go (even to N'Djamena).

I will massage your knees, elbows and chin each day.