(caller ID: Mary Jane Doe)
Me: What sup with ju?
MJD: Nothing really. You?
MJD: Sooo...when do you think we'll settle?
Me: Huh?!? Uhhh..excuse me, can you please put Mary back on the phone?
MJD: Seriously. How much longer can we do this?
Me: Do what?
MJD: The exhausting clubbing, stuffy bars, series of bad dates...
Me: Ummm...isn't this complaint a little premature? We only just hit our mid- twenties.
MJD: (pouting) I know, I know. I just need a little affirmation.
Me: Hmmm...well, 36 is my scary age.
MJD: What happens at 36?
Me: Hopefully not what's happening now. Well, actually 35 sounds like a nice round number to turn a new chapter but you know how I'm always running late, so I'm giving myself an extra year, just for cushion.
MJD: So, by 35 you'll be good? Ready to settle?
Me: (pause...sigh) ...there are times when I think I cannot try on another outfit just to wait in another non-moving guestlist line, drink another red bull vodka to come home to bounce off the walls and finally exert my energy via blog. Then, there are times when I can't wait to cram my toes into my new stilettos, to check out some restaurant turned bar/club opening with my girls and with hope.
MJD: Who's Hope?
Me: Not hope as in a girl, hope as in faith. Faith that there is someone out there who will make me want to give up the hope of meeting others. Are you gettin' me?
MJD: I never get you. I actually don't know why I call you for things like this.
Me: You call me because your misery needs a little company. But you're mistaken on thinking that what you're feeling is despair. Look, desolation even looms upon those in relationships. C'mon, we've been there. Haven't you ever laid right next to a bf and felt utter solitude? Thinking, this guy doesn't really know me which may be negotiated into being understandable but what's not, is that he's totally fine with it. That he's okay with you not divulging everything. In fact, he'd prefer you to limit what you share?
MJD: Your past relationships make me sad.
MJD: I don't know if you made me want to cut off my left ring finger or call up an ex and ask for him back.
Me: I'm nodding. Hey, it's almost 11:30...
MJD: You and your Letterman, you're sick. Well, see you Thursday night. Did you get the forward?
Me: Yeah. We have to be there by 10:30. Pick you up at 11.
Me: Good night you hussie.