What Came From Book Club Finale: a.k.a., I Give In To Literary Pressure and Agree To A Sunday Matinee

J, on the phone, semi-frantic: "So you haven't heard from him in how long?"

Me: "Saturday, in the email."

J: "You responded?"

Me: "Yes, three times"

J: "So...no answer at all?"

Me: "What part of I haven't heard didnt you hear?"

Pause

J: "Well, then you're going this weekend."

Me: "I'd rather not."

J: "Look, girlfriend, your best efforts have gotten you where, exactly?"

Me: "Hey, I'm not in a bad spot if that's what you're saying..."

J: (Cutting me off, as good friends do) "Your best efforts saw you blowing off your book club to be with some guy who allows the whole thing to end without even ever seeing you face to face --"

Me: "I didn't exactly leave that an option, but--"

J: "Bullshit, Mad. Didn't Brent show up in your carport? Didn't Owen leave roses, several times if we all remember right, on your foyer? This guy just rolled over and said OK, I thought I loved you but now it's over so good enough for me via email?"

Me: "Are you deliberately trying to make me feel like crap or is this just unintentional tough love?"

J: "You're going, this weekend. A matinee. A late lunch. It won't kill you. And so help me, if you don't go --"

Me: "What, you're recommending another Chabon for next month's book club?"

J: "Worse"

Me: "OK, I'm going."

J: "And you'll enjoy yourself."

Me: "Yes. Like a root canal."

Dial tone.

I knew I was in trouble thinking for a minute that J and A in Book Club were serious, and having resigned myself to not Internet Dating, I'd hedged a bet and agreed to go out with a real live person they'd set me up with.

I'd bail on the whole thing right now, except for two things.
1) J. makes a solid point
and
2)From everything I've been able to discern, we're about ready to move more back into the Tom Wolfe selections, and I'd really, really, not want to miss out on those and therefore have to quit Book Club Altogether.