Beginnings and endings

I'm in New York for a couple of days to celebrate my dear friend Miami Nice's bachelorette party. I couldn't be happier for her or more excited for her wedding in Vermont in a few short weeks. After 12 years together, it is definitely time for them to tie the knot! When I broke up with La Moustache in a series of text messages from a beach in Queens where I was sunbathing with his aunt and uncle last September, I fled immediately to Miami and her fiance's apartment. The three of us sat on their slouchy beige couch that evening and wrote my first online dating profile together. They are amazing friends, and I feel so lucky to have them in my life, even if it's a bit harder these days to drop by for a bowl of ice cream and an hour or two of junky television like I used to do in the past.

Yesterday Miami and I decided to indulge ourselves, and we made appointments at Bumble and bumble for the most expensive haircut I've ever gotten (we do look great, though). As we were leaving the salon, a call came in from another dear friend of mine, Checkered Girl. She was in tears, calling to let me know that she wouldn't be making it to the bachelorette party after all. Her boyfriend of two years who she's living with broke up with her the night before.

This is not the first time it's felt that Checkered Girl and I are living parallel lives, except she's a year behind me. We both had l'Artista-type boyfriends, handsome and sexy and utterly commitment-phobic, that went on for WAY longer than they should have (mine was much nicer than hers, though). We both found inner reserves of strength and moved on. Then we both found boyfriends who seemed ready to take the next step with us. They wooed us, convincing us to be with them by telling us how dedicated they were to making a relationship work long-term. We both moved in with them fairly quickly, after 7 or 8 months. And then they both fell through. It is so sad and painful to watch it happen to a friend of mine, to know exactly what she's going through and not be able to do anything to help.

Her story may have a different ending than mine. In this case, her boyfriend is much nicer than La Moustache. I like him a lot, and I hope he will wake up and realize that he will never, ever find a better girlfriend, and do whatever it takes to get past his issues and work it out.

The bachelorette was great. There were 8 of us, and I ended up sitting next to a tiny girl who probably weights ten pounds less than I do (and I weigh under 100), across from two vegetarians. We ordered the Meat Lover's Meal for 6 at a delicious Korean/Japanese barbeque joint. The plates arrived two by two, one going to the side of the table where 4 hungry meat eaters sat (including one who's pregnant with twins), the other going to me and the tiny girl. Well, guess who ravenously managed to devour half of the beef -- that's right, the two girls who look like they're twelve! The other side of the table still had a number of beef chunks left by the time dinner was over, but our plates were empty except for little bloody pools.

It was a great time, and totally worth the hangover this morning (including the multiple times I had to run to the bathroom to puke -- not sure if it was the beef or the lychee martinis that didn't agree with me). Still, as I was out with Miami and her friends drinking girly drinks and painting the town red, I thought often of how Checkered Girl must be feeling now, and my eyes teared up a bit. At the same time, I feel so, so thankful that I am a year past that feeling myself. I know she'll get past it, too.