Someone Else's Love Letter by Deborah Blumenthal

Author:Deborah Blumenthal [Blumenthal, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626819313
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2015-12-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

I had the sense that ever since Jennelle and Daniel fell for each other, they had decided that one of their missions in life was to find someone for me. Was there some imbalance in three people going out together instead of four? Did it violate some intrinsic fêng shui principle of socializing? Not that there was anything wrong with man hunting, it was just that success tended to be serendipitous. Men were like dresses; the perfect ones popped up at unexpected moments, which is why I told my clients carpe diem—or seize the perfect dress, in fashion speak, whenever and wherever you saw it.

Not that I kept track of things like the last time I had sex, but in all honesty, I had gone through a pathetically long dry spell—three months plus almost another if you counted the time Greg lived with me and I thought he was suffering from some energy-robbing disease.

I begrudgingly agreed to a blind date with someone Jennelle met in an ad agency. Inevitably, blind dates seemed to have careers that were totally different and incompatible with yours. Say he was a risk analyst, for example, or an investment banker. What would you talk about—your lack of money? Whether you should take out a loan with a fixed rate or an adjustable? Bank robberies? In all probability, he wouldn’t have a creative side and the only news he’d focus on would be financial. Otherwise, why would he go into banking? Worse still, what if he wasn’t a banker, but an insurance agent? I mean, not counting Wallace Stevens, could it get any bleaker?

So I was soured on blind dates, even though Jennelle assured me that her candidate was not only creative but also hot. He asked her out, but she told him she was seeing someone. Enter Sage Parker.

“What does he look like?”

“Adorable. He wears these round, wire-rimmed glasses, and the day I met him he had on a white suit.”

Images of Tom Wolfe passed before my eyes. A dandy? I hated that. “Jennelle, I don’t think so.” I tried to let her down gently. “I’m…I’m just not the white suit type…that’s so anal.”

“He was dressed up for an advertising awards lunch,” she said, waving away my concern.

I was less than excited about the prospect of meeting someone who paraded to work like a Good Humor man, even if it was for a special occasion. “What’s his name?”

“Jim. So what about Friday—do you have plans?”

None, except for my annual Pap test. And so the vacillation began. Why not? What do you have to lose? Why yes? What I had to lose that particular Saturday was a free night of HBO. How was I ever going to meet anyone if I was so negative? Why did I prefer to be home alone when I knew if the phone rang at all it would only be Arnie—who I began to think had a crush on me because he called so often. So, suspect as I was, I agreed.

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