When anyone asks my dignified, stiff-upper-lipped husband how a guy who’s been an investment banker in financial capitals of the world—London, Tokyo, Hong Kong, New York—ended up blissfully hitched to a broad from red-white-and-blue Texas, he deadpans in his clipped British accent, “We were channeled together by the spirit of Elaine’s dead lover.” Hundred percent true; but not as effortlessly mystical as it sounds—even if you’re into that stuff. I grew up in redneck, white-trash, blue-collar Texas, where a girl was a big fat nothing—less valuable than a good huntin’ dawg . Terrified to wake up thirty years later and find they were right, I scratched out a role in the corporate testicle festival.

Excerpt from:
How to Find Long-Lasting Love