The Divorce Registry. Yes. It’s real. Because you know, when things fall apart, someone isn’t going to get the Krups toaster. Or the Coltrane album collection. Or the Pottery Barn bedding. Or the Hamilton Beach juicer. So you register again for the basics and get your worried family and friends to buy you shit to make your transition back to singledom easier.
But seriously. What about A single’s registry? I don’t have matching dishes not less than 50 years old or a set bulbous wine glasses. I need free stuff as much as married and divorced people do. Lord knows I’ve bought tons of it for friends. (And friends, if you’ re reading, I have kept a tally of everything I spent on you. Just kidding. I purchased from the bottom of my heart. And sadly for some of you, I go by the 2 -year deadline rule to ship wedding gifts. This means I’ve spent 22 months trying to come up with an awesome, gorgeous and affordable piece de resistance every newlywed couple needs, failed and opted for something expensive on the registry to make up for my tardiness.)
This calls to mind an episode of Sex & the City when Carrie gets some Manolo Blahniks when she registered for…Manolo Blahniks. I think I would ask for the entire Anthropologie kitchen section. Side note: went to the new one up in Chevy Chase this weekend….swoooooon. The girl in the dressing room said my butt looked good in the pants I was trying on. She had no idea how much that simple statement meant to me. I bought those pants and many other things. And then I picked up the girl, folded her into my pocket and took her home. I now have her caged and feed her saltines so she will continue reporting on my butt in positive ways.