It turns out that the big news is that she is in love. It’s pretty amazing since she is in her late 40’s and they say the probability of a woman that age finding true love is more remote than being struck by lightening.
I am happy for her, and being the good girlfriend that I am, I listened enthusiastically to every word she had to say about her “Frankie”.
Remember what it was like when you were in high school and you were in love? Every breath, every thought revolved around that certain someone. My girlfriends and I would fantasize in class about getting married and practice writing our new name on endless sheets of lined notebook paper. To this day, I can still sign an elegant “Mrs. Ringo Starr”.
Just in case you think that falling in love when you are older becomes more toned-down and sensible, think again. After living with the lovebirds over a long weekend, I can assure you that just doesn’t seem to be the case at all. My friend Melanie is almost 50. Although Frank is even a few years older, the 2 of them (both executives) talk baby talk to each other. A little goes a long way, but I didn’t mention even a “wittle” word about it.
During my visit, Melanie and I were relaxing over morning coffee and enjoying some “girl talk”. The whole thing kind of reminded me of those old TV commercials where the 2 girlfriends got together for some giggly reminiscences about some guy named “Jacques” over French Vanilla flavored coffee and celebrated the times of their lives. It was a nice experience in an “80s” sort of retro way, but the mood was lost when in the middle of our chatting, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Oh! Do you know what today is?” she asked excitedly. I had no idea. “Today is our anniversary!” “Oh really?" I said, trying to figure out what milestone could have possibly taken place after only seven weeks. “Yes”, she blathered on…” One month ago today, Frankie told me that he loved me.” I gave her the appropriate “aahs” in my dreamiest voice just like the excellent friend that I am. Isn’t it crazy how people in love have anniversaries for everything? Can you imagine if people who had been together for a long time did that? There wouldn’t be time for anything else.
The 2 of us girls went shopping one afternoon. I thought it would be just like old times, just me and Melanie doing what girls do best… SHOP and eat lunch. Yeah, right! It turns out that Frankie just happened to be in the immediate vicinity of the mall and had the opportunity to join us for lunch. It was a real eye-opener because I got to see a Melanie I have never seen before.
She ordered a garden salad and sparkling water. Frankie remarked that his Melanie eats just like a canary. I smiled and thought wicked thoughts about how much Mel would pay me for those photos of her winning the pie eating contest at our college carnival.
When Frankie left to go back to his office, us girls took off to take on the mall. Woo hoo! Somehow, we never got around to trying on clothes we could never afford or cattily critiquing what the other shoppers were wearing like we used to. But I NOW know what Frankie likes (and doesn’t like) to wear. I know about his favorite colors, his preferred designers, his allergies to polyester blends, his preference to briefs over boxers and his love of Italian neckties. And just so you can be as creeped-out as I was at this piece of info, Frankie doesn’t wear anything to bed. Should I know all this about someone whom I have known less than a day?
My patience was wearing thin. I just wanted to be with my old friend Melanie. Where did she go? Where was my best buddy who showed me how to do Tequila shooters and play pool? Where was my sound-minded “sister” and confidante who was always so together in everything she did?
She is lost in Loveland, I am afraid.
I was just about to pretend that I had to go home early to some sort of emergency, when all hell broke loose. Melanie and Frankie had a fight. It seems we were 20 minutes late getting back from the mall and he was less than patient about our disregard for promptness. I stuck by my friend through the whole ordeal and was truly saddened by how paralyzed life without Frankie made her. Thank goodness it didn’t last long. The next morning three dozen perfect white “I’m sorry” roses arrived at the door with a gooey love note. All was well again with the world. I had to think, however, that if the standard is three dozen rose for a little tiff, that the man in my life should be sending me one of those Rose Parade floral floats any day now.
It was finally time to go home. Once safe again in my own universe, I enjoyed sweet thoughts of Melanie and was genuinely happy for this new found love she had with Frank. This is not a change of heart or anything, its just way easier to love lovebirds when you don’t have to be around them.
And then I remembered. Renee just became a grandmother for the first time a few months ago. Kill me now…
