So I left Book Club tonight, thinking about the whole ‘my personal life is separate” but it really isn’t, because these are The Girls who busted me with the whole ‘sixty minute man’, or more on target, the guy who was seeing me exclusively, and was at the same time active on an Internet dating site.
Sad but redundant. We’ve been here before.
“So OK,” A. said, as I left, “your take is what, to do nothing?”
“No,” I said. “If you mean, am I going back to Internet dating, no thanks.”
J. exchanged a significant glance with A. then,“So, let us set you up.”
“Like you do,” I said, “with something like a Michael Chabon novel (I’d hated every page) like The Yiddish Policeman’s Union, Pulitzer prize or no.”
“Yes,” they replied, in unison so much it scared me.
“Whatever,” I said, and meant it.
The week has only begun and it was scary to think where it may wind up, if they were serious.
Maybe I, like they said frighteningly in unison as I made my way back through the courtyard, need to buckle up and hold on, girlfriend, and just let them figure it out.
It has to, they insisted, beat the alternative.
“Ladies,” I said, “Leave a lady alone.”
My hope is they take that advice but no bets being hedged, at this point.
Comes a certain point, it’s got to be better, being alone.
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