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I've always heard it appropriate to end a love affair with the phrase, "It was nice to have met you." and walk away without a handshake or a kiss. I've done so on many occasions with all shapes and sizes of these animals we call 'men'. Because, as I have realized over the years, I, am a stupid girl. Not the stupid girl that doesn't get the punchline of an office joke. Not the stupid girl that only got by in highschool by schutupping her geometry teacher. In fact, it's difficult to place the words silly, ditzy, blond, etc. in a the same sentence with my name.
No, I'm the stupid girl who falls in love with men much older than herself, who also happen to have needy wives and children. But none of them, with their cigarette breath and kinky uses for me in bed, will ever be as disgusting to me as my current liaison. Why? Because he promises me so much more than the others did. And I know, deep down, that he really means it.
Lou says that life is one, long novel that we each write by our everyday actions. Easy for her to say, her life has overnight become more like a fairytale, with Prince Charming on a white steed and all.
Lou is my very best friend in all manners of the title. We have alot in common, she and I. For instance, neither of us prefer chunky peanut, we both hate The Who and adore Jim Morrison, and we both fit the profile for the common single, lovesick working woman, desperate for any sign of affection from the male species.
That is, until two weeks ago when Lou took up a one night stand she met at the club.
Whiskey, condoms, and drunken lust were all present in the guy's one bedroom flat that night. But the next morning, when their sober eyes saw each other for the first time, even the pounding hangover couldn't interfere with what was set in motion. Lou was in love.
Now, it'd been two whole weeks and neither of them were seeing anyone else. She assures me that they never will again, that this is the man she wants to marry. This is it, she says. This is what we've both been waiting for our entire pathetic lives. Then she reminds me for the 247th time that tonight is the night I get to meet this "prince charming", while she picks out her afro with a bubbling happiness that I've never seen present in her before. I wish I felt the same. I wish fate would throw me a bone. A bone without baggage, a bone without a pretty blond wife and baby..
I'm trying to be happy for Lou and.. what's his name, but I can't be happy for her without being reminded of just how miserable I am. Lou and I used to be like peas in a pod, crying over failed lovers and broken hearts. Now she's.. happy. It turns my stomach everytime she recounts that morning to me for the thousandth time with a glint in her eye and that huge grin of hers.
What kind of friend am I?
After zipping up her little black dress and popping me a kiss on the cheek, Lou hurries off to be a solicitor's secretary while I lope to the living room in my sweat pants and flop down in front of the television and sulk with a package of chocolate chip cookies.
Crunch, crunch, crunch. How could I be so selfish? Crunch, crunch, crunch. I should be happy for Lou and stop feeling so goddamn-
The phone rings, interrupting my morning cartoons and "beating myself up" session. I hesitate to answer and almost consider unplugging the thing. I'd never have to speak to another human being again maybe..
"Hello?", I say meekly into the receiver.
"I want to see you today.", came the reply.
It was Robert. Robert with the lovely chestnut eyes and thick, wavy hair. Robert who detests operas just as much as I do and would prefer Chinese takeout or pizza over a four course candle lit meal. Robert who makes me laugh at everything. Robert, who's intelligent, witty, kind and hysterical. Robert who always looks me directly in the eye when he makes love to me. Robert with the pretty blond wife and baby.
I didn't expect to hear from him again. Not since our row the day before last. They normally don't call after I slap them in public. Yet, here he is, calling me to ask if I'll meet him at the coffee shop in a half hour.
Without thinking, I whisper "okay" into the phone and hear the click on the other end as he hangs up.
Oh shit, what am I gonna wear?
I dash into the bedroom, tearing through the closet clumsily arranged with mine and Lou's clothes. Somehow, I decide to wear Lou's sleeveless, white, knee length dress, my knitted gray sweater and the pair of light brown suede boots we share. Shower? There's no time. I glop gingerbread scented lotion into my hand and vigorously scrub it into my not-so-perfect pale skin. After dressing, I pull my tangled hair into a messy French bun and inspect myself in the mirror just as the television in the other room taunts me with the line, "Maybe she's born with it.. ".I contemplate wearing makeup. Then I remember that he doesn't like me in makeup.
I check the clock, grab my bag and lock the door behind me without turning off the television.

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