However, a guy did buy me a drink last week. He was short and quite a bit younger than me, but he was friendly and cute and I figured I'd practice flirting, which paid off since he slyly paid for my $14 glass of wine. (I'd put out my $20 and the bartender just made smaller change out of it for me, which I didn't realize until I got up to meet friends for dinner. Sneaky.)
As always, this holiday weekend caught me by surprise. I never seem to plan anything for Memorial Day weekend, and so, as in years past, I find myself fending for myself and catching excitement where I can. Yesterday turned out well, and it's still an early Sunday here on the West Coast--who knows?
My good friend Emily and I took a long walk along the N*** (again not spelling it out so avid, local googlers won't find me) River and then we lunched under an umbrella on a deck at our favorite eatery. Topics of conversation ranged all over the place but, of course, mostly had to do with men past, present and future. It's a fun topic to hash out, you know. (Yes, you do know.)
Emily is 41, once married and then engaged and all ready to walk the aisle (on Martha's Vineyard, no less) when two days before the wedding, her man called it off. Three years later, she's left her executive position, moved to N***, and is wondering what the heck to do with her life. She rents a small apartment on an amazing country estate. The owners are currently summering in France (ah, the life!), so we decided to take the conversation to the poolside lawn.
Just so you know, cheese, grapes, bread, strawberries and French rosé pair very nicely with conversation. We made plans for summer parties and just plain getting out. "Because we're not going to meet any men here," Emily said, gesturing towards the wooded hillsides. Yes, that's the thing: one may spend a wonderful afternoon sunning herself at a secluded, N*** location, but interesting men aren't going to emerge from the forest or vineyard.
A girl has to get out.
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