In conversation about the shortcomings of the not-boyfriend, the Old Man said, “Really, what you need to do is find somebody who’s rich and not fucked up.”
“Oh gawd,” I said, “how BORING. Somebody rich and tortured, how about that?”
“Rich and depressing?”
“It would be a lot more interesting,” I said, and thought about it for a moment.
And then it occurred to me, in one shining moment of pure brilliance:
“I need to marry Bruce Wayne.”