I read the vows section of the Sunday New York Times for the same reason every single, 25-year-old New Yorker does. It features bizarre yet seemingly possible match-making scenarios of the somewhat intellectual, always interesting, usually-over-30 Manhattan-crowd providing once-a-week faith in the fact that my serendipitous story is out there – and publishable.

Every so often you get an eye-roller – “Trapeze Instructor Makes the Catch of his Life” or, “little did they know as they hiked side-by-side up the great Kilimanjaro that they’d actually been climbing together for years – to the 5^th floor of the East Village apartment building they unknowingly shared.” But for the most part they’re touching and provide solid ideas for wedding reception locations.

And then there was this:

“So last year Ms. Kraus decided to dedicate her latest novel, “Dedication”, to her husband. No, she wasn’t married. But she was hopeful. ‘I was creating a place holder,’ Ms. Kraus, 33, said. ‘He was out there. I just hadn’t crossed paths with him yet.’

She began behaving as if she was already in love. ‘You carry yourself differently when you’re not alone,’ she explained. ‘I would carry myself at a party or a supermarket or a gym as if I was loved.’

Then a month later David Wheir kissed her, and she no
longer needed to pretend.”

Interesting. So she pretended to be married to the point of dedicating her book to a non-existent husband? And this “approach” was enacted to trick the cosmos into sending her the right man?

OKAY. Couple things right off the bat.

I’m all for the power of positive thinking. From the broad: want good things to come your way? Put some good out into the universe with a cheery disposition. To the specific: looking to drop some lbs? Focus on a thinner you.

But lying about a marriage in a nationally released publication because of some “if you print it he will come” philosophy seem, I don’t know, crazy pants.

Do you change your business cards to read “Manager” to will that promotion your way? Or start having your mail sent to the gorgeous doorman building on 5^th Ave. you’ve been eying in the hopes they’ll drop the rent 5K? No — no you don’t.

Go ahead and get your mind and soul healthy so you’re ready when the right person comes along. Take an active role in finding someone by putting yourself in places where you think they’ll meet like-minded people. These approaches remain on the safe side of the sanity divide. But Krausy took it one big step over that line with a fake it ‘til you make it approach – to marriage.

So, fine. She’s crazy. I could live with that if it wasn’t for the underlying issue at the heart of her crazy: the idea that you can project a sense of being loved and therefore love will come to you. This seems…not grounded in logic.

What does knowing you’re loved look like? Do you smile at others more? Do you walk with an air of self-confidence that’s appealing to people? Anything more specific — fake cell phone calls to your Mr.? Imaginary pictures stolen from store-bought pictures frames hung in your cubicle? — seems sitcom worthy. Acting like you’re worthy of love so others see that in you is at least theoretically valid. Not tested, impossible to prove and even harder to describe, but not as offensive as the rest of her shtick. I’d prefer to call it “having a positive outlook and solid sense of self” versus “pretending you are not alone” but potato pototo (sp?) I guess.

Fine. Maybe Crazy’s on to something, I thought, as I came to the end of the piece. Then I read the following lines:

…”When Ms. Kraus had a birthday party for her dog…”

And.

“On June 14, Ms. Kraus walked down the aisle to a recording of
Miss Piggy singing ‘He’ll Make Me Happy.’”

Amazing how a simple dog’s birthday party can discredit an entire person’s life. That and Muppet renditions to mark ceremonial occasions.