“Finally,” I say, relieved. “You can’t date someone namedTerrain.” I say her name with exaggerated disdain. I take a bite of my own everything bagel with extra cream cheese. It’s toasty, warm, and chewy goodness.
“You know she doesn’t pronounce it like that. And she didn’t pick her name.”
“Yeah, I know.” I roll my eyes. “It’s less about the name, and more about her being a terrible person who met up withwomen behind your back on apps after you both agreed to be exclusive.”
Stella blinks twice, and I see a sheen of tears across her dark brown eyes. “She’s emotionally unavailable. I always fall for those types. I feel like such a schmuck.”
“You don’talwaysfall for those types. Just almost always.” I grin. “Besides, I actually think you set good boundaries with Terran. You told her what you needed, and when she didn’t give it to you, you let her go.”
“Then why do I feel so lousy?” Stella laments.
“In a couple of weeks, you will feel better. Besides, you’ll be the toast of all the apps the second you put your profile back up.”
Stella is objectively gorgeous. She’s got this mane of cascading dark curls and deep umber skin that is absolutely pore-free and breathtaking. She looks like she ought to be a model rather than a therapist, and whenever we go out together, all the men flirt with her and ignore me, but then, I get the joy of telling them she’ll never be interested in them, no matter what they do. “I’m not going to set unrealistic expectations. I tell my patients this all the time, but look at me.”
“Hey, you know it’s always harder to follow your own advice! Plus, you can’t be objective about yourself. That’s why no one can be their own therapist.”
“Thanks.” She smiles at me, wiping her nose with a napkin. “Hey, by the way, I’ve been readingSolo February.The articles are good. Really good.”
“They are?” I blink.
“Yes! I’m really proud of you—usually you just run headfirst into a new relationship, but I’m so glad you’re taking sometime for you, and really evaluating what you need before you start crushing on some new guy.”
I think about meeting Jack at Margo’s and wonder if I should tell Stella about him. Then again, why bother? Jack has a girlfriend. Ergo, I can’t be crushing on him. Even if I am. A little.
“I don’t always jump into a new crush,” I protest.
“That’s your MO,” Stella scoffs. “Remember how you met Dan? That was right after you just broke up with Chris.”
“Ugh. Chris,” I groan. After we had our “let’s be exclusive” talk and agreed not to date anyone else, he went to Cancún with his ex-girlfriend.
“And Chris came right after Nathan.”
“Don’t remind me.” Nathan, who told me, flat-out, there were too many options out there for men over thirty, and that the older he got, the more options he had, whereas my dating pool as a straight woman sharply dwindles every year. The numbers, he said, didn’t lie, and it made no sense for him to ever settle down, until he reached his fifties. I spent a few months thinking I might be able to change his mind. Dumb, I know.
“And Nathan was right after Marley. So, you’ve kind of got a pattern. A little bit.” Stella takes a big bite of bagel and chews thoughtfully. “I’m just glad you’re taking some time, exploring what you need. The articles are authentic and real. In fact, I think it’s the most authentic thing you’ve written.”
“You’re saying I’m not authentic when I write about the best toothpastes to use before a blowjob?”
“Uh, ew?” Stella wrinkles her nose in distaste. “I’m just saying, you’ve always talked about wanting to write something more meaningful. I think this could be it.” Stella takes a sipof her coffee. “I think I’ll do the challenge, too, actually. Solo February sounds pretty good to me.”
“Seriously?” I can’t believe Stella is joining me.
“Why not? It’s healthy to take stock of one’s life. And lots of people are doing it.”
“They are?”
Stella pulls up my first article, which I haven’t looked at in a while. It’s gotten fifteen thousand likes. That’s more likes than any one of my articles before. By about 14,850.
You go, girl! Thank you for saying what we’ve all been thinking. We need a relationship detox.
You write it, sister!
To hell with love. #GoSoloYolo
The door near our table dings and a sharp blast of February air rips across the back of my neck. I glance up in time to see none other than Jack Mann, wearing a navy wool peacoat, cargo pants, and sturdy, winter-proof lug boots, saunter in. I feel pure happiness, followed by existential dread. Stella, meanwhile, doesn’t notice him.
“See? Your words are really resonating with people.”
