…And if she isn’t and I am (cuz I’m falling in love…which doesn’t equal intimacy, but hey, it starts somewhere) does that mean I’ll never be able to land a deal to be on the cover of my own magazine every dang issue?! WHAT IF… I get so happy that I have no pain to make fun of or to drive me to new heights of success and am relegated to being a normie who can only get excited by the humus selection at Trader Joe’s (which…quite frankly, is already the case)… WHAT IF I marry my boyfriend and we’re so ecstatically happy that we give up our dreams of becoming famous writers and actors (dreams that were born as a distraction from unhappy childhoods)? Worse! WHAT IF I give up my dreams cuz I’m suddenly more interested in cooking organic meals every night for my family and making Halloween costumes from scratch, BUT my at-that-point husband continues to pursue the dream of becoming a famous actor (because I’ve martyred myself as the pillar of the family) which he fulfills (thanks, in part, to my martyr-induced undying love and support), at which point he drops me for a young starlet who has no hang-ups about success, and our kids get grow up being pedaled back and forth between households while I sublimate my guilt into a book about lost dreams (does anyone else remember “Irreconcilable Differences?” What is Shelley Long up to these days, anyway?)?!

WHAT IF women can’t have creativity, success, love, and a family?

WHAT IF I get fat?

WHAT IF Bush wins again?

WHAT IF the Olsen twins spend all their money?

Just for today, I can try to stay out of the future.