The Scoop

“So what did I miss?” I asked Lily. I’d been on vacation in Phoenix and my best friend of all time knew exactly what to fill me in on.
“Wow, Jan, that’s tough. Nothing really,” she replied.
“Seriously? An entire week and no one has scoop? That’s unbelievable. What about Stephanie’s new boyfriend? Or Wednesday night before Thanksgiving?”
The night before Thanksgiving was always a great time to go out get hammered and sleep in before eating through your entire hangover. Wednesday was its own holiday.
“Nope, this year everyone took it easy.”
“Wow.” I was disappointed. There was always at least one good story.
Tales usually involved someone making out with someone else, someone falling down in the middle of the street, or my personal favorite- the taxi-cab barf up. Yum.

“Oh wait,” Lily continued, “I can think of one thing- but it’s only if you have time to hear it.”
“Bring it on,” I said. I was desperate for any kind of news.
“Well, do you remember Bevin? She’s got brown hair, skinny, about 5’4”- she went to my going away party?”
(Lily had never actually left. We threw her an enormous going-away party before she changed her mind.)
“Of course, how could I forget? She’s always the first one trashed at any party. Very sweet, though.” I responded.
“Yep, that’s the one.” Lily confirmed. “Well she was set up on a blind date last week with David- your ex- David.”
“Really?” I gasped. “Go on…”
“Nothing, that’s it, they just met for a few drinks. Bevin says she wants to see him again. Does it bother you? She wants to know.” Lily asked.
“Does it bother me? Ha!” I laughed.

Truthfully, this was somewhat of a cover-up. David and I broke up over a year ago. Aside from the e-mail, we hadn’t talked. That was my decision. I found it too painful to have any kind of contact with him. We dated for 3 years. During that time we drank, drank more, and fought. Usually, because we were drunk. I had walked- no run- away from the relationship, knowing I was on the fast-track to nowhere- or an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.
I would tell friends I was dating ‘my future ex-husband’. They thought I was being funny. I knew I was being truthful. Needless to say, the relationship ended badly.

“Well, to be honest,” I continued after catching my breath, “it doesn’t bother me….I’m just shocked. I mean- how many men live in DC? A billion?”
“I know, it’s a small world” Lily consoled, “what do you want me to say to Bevin?”
“Tell her I wish them both my best.” I replied.

And I meant it.

The truth is I’m happy in my current functional relationship. Peter is moving in. He treats me like a queen. He doesn’t mind that I drink and sometimes smoke- but he doesn’t encourage it either. I feel like I’m living a healthier happier life with him in it.
Why wouldn’t I want that for someone else?

“You’re amazing, Jan. I don’t know if I’d feel the same way.” Lily said.

A day later, the conversation is still on my mind. The whole ‘one degree of separation’ freaks me out. It makes David feel very near. But it also makes me realize that I’m lucky. I’m not going out on blind dates hoping to find someone. I’m happy with who I have.

Who Is "The One"?

In any relationship a person reaches a point where they decide they’re with “The One”.
But what defines “The One”?

I remember when I first started dating Peter. There were no initial sparks, no love at first sight- but it was easy. Just two people who enjoyed each other’s company, bored with lonely nights watching reruns on the couch. (I always added a bottle of wine and a few cheap cigarettes for extra fun.) But quiet, no less.
It was after the first month that I really started to enjoy those nights with Peter. We did everything from watching foreign movies to sucking down martinis at the lounge around the corner. The nights were comfortable and relaxing.

That was ten months ago. Peter and I are still together and now I’m almost convinced he’s ‘The One’. There’s no drama, no heated fights, no break-ups. It’s been perfect according to everyone I know. But is it too perfect?

Each morning Peter wakes up before I do. He feeds my cat and makes coffee. On Mondays and Thursdays he takes out the trash. He’s clean, thoughtful, and easy-going.
He’s also ready to commit.

It happened in Italy.

“Babe, what a fantastic night,” I sighed as I climbed into bed.
The view from our hotel room overlooked the Italian Riviera. I could hear the small waves crash below us.
“I always have a fantastic night with you,” he smiled. “You are a beautiful part of my life and I always want us to be together.”
“Me too,” I said. I could feel my heart pounding.
I knew there was a chance for a proposal on this trip, but I certainly hadn’t planned a response.
”You have been the best thing that has ever happened to me and I don’t want that to change,” Peter continued.
I lay there wide-eyed. My heart was now beating out of my chest.
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
Oh shit.
It’s funny because a million girls would die for this proposal. And I just lay there, speechless.
“Yes,” I said, “I love you, I love you in my life……” I was searching for the right words. “But I’m not ready, not yet.”
Oxygen never felt so good.

It was later decided he would move in and we would begin the search for an engagement ring. I feel comfortable and secure with this decision. I think.
I’m petrified of marriage. The mere possibility of being responsible for anyone other than me is mortifying. I’m not convinced I can handle it.

I also worry that if I don’t want to burst into a sprint as I march down the isle, that maybe I’m banking on the wrong guy. But then, I’ve never wanted to sprint toward anyone. I’ve always felt very self-sufficient.

So who knows? How do you determine if someone is “The One”?

I’m hoping someone is “The One” when you find comfort in their presence and when life is easier with them in it.

If I’m right, I’ll let you know.