Illustration by Bob AulI've never met you, but I know everything I need to know about you: I met your husband frantically shopping for jewelry on Mother's Day afternoon. You'd sent him out of the house with instructions to return the cute little amethyst ring he bought you to celebrate the day ($250, white gold) and to come back home with jewelry worth (he said) “no less than $5,000.” You were very specific about the amount, he said: $5,000. Is that the price of a whore these days? Even the lady behind the counter felt bad for him, said she'd sell him something far less expensive and fake a price tag for $5,000 just to make you happy. No, your husband said. “I may be a lousy husband,” he said, “but I'm no liar.” He's no liar, but he's also got bad taste in women and jewelry. He finally settled on the tackiest piece of crap in the store—a crucifix with so many diamonds that you'll look like you've got an entire Thomas Kinkade village hanging from your neck. Price: $6,000. “She'll like it,” he said when he asked my opinion, “because she's very spiritual.” Yeah, you know, spiritual like Satan.
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