12:52 PM |
My best friend lives in the renovated Meeting House just down the street (a couple of hundred acres away). We call her our Julie McCoy, because nothing social would actually get done without her. Her house was a declared no testosterone zone. She absolutely, positively would not let a man live there, or even want to live there. In fact, she didn't want a man under any circumstances. The rest of us were single but were open to the off possibility, while this woman was making plans for us all to live together with a driver, and be the wise old women of the tribe.
One day, one of her friends, let us say more established, and my friend and I were having lunch in the ersatz English pub that replaced the scary deli with motorcycles. Her friend wanted to set her up with someone, someone I knew very well. She backed up and said, as long as you're not interested in him. Interested? It was like dating my brother or more like seeing the help, sort of (and I don't mean it to sound that way). She was interested. That was the end of our life as we knew it.
Suddenly, where there had been jovial nightly dinners, there were now couples only parties. She'd let us know, she said, when she might have one with singles. She had a boyfriend.
Now, this man was one of my dear friends. I've known him for at least 25 years, and he likes to talk. They talked on the phone a LOT. He also talked to me. He did a lot of hanging out with our local sports celebrity. Said celebrity has no use for women. None whatsoever. He discovered my guy when he was working on his sprint car. Well, as always, his wife was without company. My best friend was the perfect fourth. It occurred to me that the only time my BFF and my guy friend saw each other was with the big guy and his wife. She was the fourth. Always. I couldn't stand it. I told her in the beginning that she deserved better, but she put on her Chesshire cat grin. Another girl who thinks she's going to change a guy. I'm guessing the relationship was never consummated, even after more than a year.
She then found another boyfriend, more suitable, and in love with her since they were both married. She said "all the parts still work."
My imaginary boyfriend won't change. That's because he's perfect just the way he is.
One day, one of her friends, let us say more established, and my friend and I were having lunch in the ersatz English pub that replaced the scary deli with motorcycles. Her friend wanted to set her up with someone, someone I knew very well. She backed up and said, as long as you're not interested in him. Interested? It was like dating my brother or more like seeing the help, sort of (and I don't mean it to sound that way). She was interested. That was the end of our life as we knew it.
Suddenly, where there had been jovial nightly dinners, there were now couples only parties. She'd let us know, she said, when she might have one with singles. She had a boyfriend.
Now, this man was one of my dear friends. I've known him for at least 25 years, and he likes to talk. They talked on the phone a LOT. He also talked to me. He did a lot of hanging out with our local sports celebrity. Said celebrity has no use for women. None whatsoever. He discovered my guy when he was working on his sprint car. Well, as always, his wife was without company. My best friend was the perfect fourth. It occurred to me that the only time my BFF and my guy friend saw each other was with the big guy and his wife. She was the fourth. Always. I couldn't stand it. I told her in the beginning that she deserved better, but she put on her Chesshire cat grin. Another girl who thinks she's going to change a guy. I'm guessing the relationship was never consummated, even after more than a year.
She then found another boyfriend, more suitable, and in love with her since they were both married. She said "all the parts still work."
My imaginary boyfriend won't change. That's because he's perfect just the way he is.