On finding myself in the pages of SAVE THE DATE by Jen Doll

Last week my dear friend Jen Doll launched her first book, Save the Date: The Occasional Mortifications of a Serial Wedding Guest, to what we might call mega acclaim.

To be precise: CNN, Time Magazine, GQ, Cosmopolitan, Flavorwire, New York Times Magazine, Marie Claire, Vanity Fair, O Magazine, Harper's Bazaar, and Good Housekeeping have all rallied behind this book—naming it one of the most anticipated books of the year, posting interviews, running excerpts. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

Fame like this couldn't happen to a nicer or more talented person. Because Jen, who is a trusted writer for all the cool publications like Hairpin and Atlantic Wire and New York Times Book Review and is additionally my go-to Twitter station, is also generous, thoughtful, and capable of walking an entire stretch of my city in elevated shoes without a peep of a complaint, even as I am assigning the wrong names to tall buildings.

Sunday, while I was out walking in my suburban town (where the buildings don't really seem to have names and therefore cannot be permanently misaligned), a note came from Jen (whose book I'd read in galley form and wrote about here) asking if I had received my hard copy of Save the Date. I had. I'd put it on my to-be-taught memoir/essay shelf, I said, but had not thought to look inside. I should look inside, Jen suggested. I should, perhaps, read the acknowledgments.

I went home. I found the book. And there, above, is what I found.

I was slayed.

In only the best possible way.