Sunbathing with my sweetheart on a stretch of grass and fall leaves last weekend, I didn't want or expect to be confronted with "relationship talk." I was blindsided when he suddenly grabbed my by the wrists and declared, "You are such a Holly." Hmm... A Holly. Could he love a Holly? Could I love or even be a Holly? Was he merely drunk on sunshine and the scent of my new shampoo, or did he have a point? I mentally raced through the pages of the book he was referring to, Laurie Colwin's Happy All the Time , searching to some clue as to what had been meant by the comment. On the defensive, I first checked off things Holly and I don't have in common. "I don't wear my hair the way Japanese children wear theirs, I can't even figure out how large a pan I need for a batch of brownies, I hate gossip columns... what are you talking about?" "No no no, you're a relationship Holly. Ohhh... He knows me so well.
             Like Holly, I can't think clearly about a relationship when I am in the thick of it. Holly sleeps with a man for the first time and then wakes up in the morning and does a crossword puzzle, then asks him to bring her a newspaper. Pressed for the reason behind her actions, she says to him, "I find all this too nerve racking, and so I like to put things into the most normal context." The first time my boyfriend kissed me I looked away from him, and then continued talking about my dog as if nothing had happened. When an important crossroad is reached in a relationship, I often retreat to think it over, or immerse myself in something mundane until I am ready to consider its significance. Holly and I are both afraid of being lulled into expecting to be "Happy All the Time." We live in fear of the moment when happiness will be taken for granted and things will lose their sparkle. We try to make things difficult for ourselves, to subject ou...