A long time ago I was a Deputy County Clerk for the County of Los Angeles. Part of my job was to issue marriage licenses. I think that was the best part of the job. There were specific tasks I had to perform, questions to ask and I watched as the couple swore or affirmed what they said was the truth. Sometimes I looked at a couple and thought “For the love of humanity dude, run, do not marry this chick!” or maybe “Hell, they don’t need a license, they are already married in their hearts.”

Six weeks ago, I plucked my iPhone from the charger at 7:30am and found a voicemail from my oldest daughter, Jenn. Oops, the ringer was off and it was still in the bedroom. Happens more often than you'd think. Who calls at 7am??? Lots of people. I listened to the voicemail and all I really heard was "Call me back, I really need to talk to you." I hate it when my kids say "I really need to talk to you." It's never good news. From the tone of her voice, I guessed two things - either she's pregnant or she's getting married...

Nothing says "I love you" like a pumpkin. What? Why are you looking at me that way? Surely you've experienced this... I'm not talking about the pumpkin as an aphrodisiac, though I could be. Feng Shui followers use calabash to make talismans. It harmonizes relations between parents and children, rehabilitates lost passion in married people and is considered as a protective and medicinal remedy. I'm talking about the pumpkin as a gift of love...

I am in love. With a person I plan to live with. Who is an amazing partner and a wonderful friend. Whom I think I’d like to grow old with, and with whom I dream of creating a merry band of progressive family and friends. But there is no way, much as I want to show A how I love him that I’m eager to get married again. Been there. Done that. Got the divorce, the settlement, and the resolution not to do it again. “There is no way I ever want to get married again,” I tell my friends. “No reason to.”

Someday. To the right person. Ideally speaking.I've been thinking about what it means for me, ultimately believing in the concept of marriage. It's a very intimate part of who I am and what I believe in. It means I'm open to making a lifelong commitment. It means I would like to partner up for the long haul, with the right person.But lately I've been thinking even more about what it doesn't mean.

Finally! One of the most pressing questions in my life - how on earth did a committed socialist like me end up married to a capitalist finance professional?

As the New York Times article, Health Benefits Inspire Rush to Marry, or Divorce says (with an odd biblical reference to boot), "...money and matrimony have been linked since Genesis." Going into the article, my initial reaction to the story of people marrying and divorcing for health insurance was: Well, Duh.

There's nothing like a politician admitting that he got it on with a woman who is not his (powerful) wife to provide an opportunity to explore gender roles and sexuality. Many of us thought that the Elliot Spitzer debacle was a ripe opening to talk about the suffocating Madonna/whore dichotomy that women (and men) suffer through.

Let's get my answer out of the way quickly. I don't think I want to be marriage material right now. I'm not in a bendable phase of life. Emphasis is on the "right now." Maybe one day ... but, if I put any credence into numerology, then I may never be marriage material. It's possible I never was deep down. My number is "One."

There are millions of people living in the big cities, and many, many, many of them are single. In this age of Internet dating, if you want to date and meet new people, you absolutely can. I was talking to a friend recently about how after you've been single for a while in a major metropolitan area you start to feel like you've forgotten how one gets into a long-term relationship. It's so not like riding a bicycle. Conflicts arise and the first thing you think is, "Oh well, this obviously isn't going to work out. Next!"

The past week I have been adrift in volunteer work, a new freelance job, house cleaning and one other thing. What was that? Oh, I remember. Celebrating my eighth year being clean from a painful and life altering drug addiction that nearly took away everything I cherish and love. I'll be honest. I wanted to find be around at least one person who "got it" and would realize what I was going through on that day. It was a day that I desperately needed to be understood and on familiar ground with another person.

Helloooooooo, BlogHer! Today my hiatus from being a Contributing Editor officially ends, and like it or not, I'm back. (Hopefully you like it. I'm sensitive, you know. Be gentle.) A few months ago my dance card filled up and I decided I needed to lighten my load a bit, hence the absence. But as life is now calming down, I'm picking back up where I left off. Oh, except that a few things are different since I was last here. You know that scale of life stressors where you can figure out your "stress score?" Let's see if you can figure out my recent score. In the last six months, I have: