My arch-nemesis is now not just an husband (to a "gorgeous punk-rawk princess!") but baby-father. And, yes, he's twenty-six, and, yes, he always had a way with the ladies, of burrowing into their hearts and stealing away with piece (he had that killer instinct that I have always lacked (and probably always will), and even though he would never admit his good fortune), but, damn... For how much he tried to bring high-camp and melodrama to his life -- and for how much I tried to reverse the same in my life (though usually not successfully) -- he's the one living the normal, work-a-day life of wife, kid, car, job, white-picket-fence -- in a word, stability.

But from such is what he always ran.

Weird how things like that turn out??