now?”
“Well,
technically yes.”
“Funny—I
always just assumed you were taken.”
“Well
I am kind of, uh, talking to someone.” I was excited to bring Jay back to the
forefront of my mind and to make him the subject of conversation with someone
other than Maureen and Jenna.
“Well
that’s great,” he said. “I hope this one works out for you.”
“It’s
really new, so we’ll see.”
Ryan
and I talked for nearly an hour while Jenna, Nick, and Gwen gossiped about
work. The only drawback to hanging out with coworkers was that professional and
personal lives tended to blend into one. Ryan and I talked about everything but
East Coast Prime, however. I learned that he too had a shelter dog and that he
lived a condo in New Albany, one of the nicer suburbs of Columbus. He studied
business management at Ohio State, and he was a Pisces. The five of us drank at
Union for another couple of hours before going our separate ways. Jenna went reluctantly
back to her husband, and I went home more buzzed than I’d intended and got cozy
with my iPad and Sunday night television.
Monday morning followed a long night of
uninterrupted sleep during which I dreamed about Jay for what felt like hours
on end. It was peculiar to dream about someone whose face you could scarcely
remember. I had fragmented recollections of his features but was having
difficulty trying to piece together the whole of his splendor. And I had a
strong sense that the whole was worth more than the sum of its parts. But Jay’s
energy alone was enough to fuel my visions while I slept and to keep me
blissfully unaware of the harsh wintry weather outside.
I used that Monday as a personal day and spent
the morning lounging around my apartment listening to music, drinking entirely
too much coffee, and savoring another day away from my office. I actually had
plans that afternoon too. It was my former roommate Erica’s twenty-ninth
birthday party. And while I didn’t fully understand why it was on a Monday
afternoon (though a few of the girls had quit their jobs after getting married,
which probably had something to do with it), I was grateful for the time off
and the chance to see everyone. Stacey, our other former housemate, had been in
charge of planning the party.
We were meeting at Jacob Neal, a spa in the
Short North, which was convenient for me because I just had to walk downstairs
and back up again when it was over (particularly convenient if I consumed too
much champagne). I was fairly certain that nearly everyone invited to the party
was either married or engaged, and at least half of the girls were pregnant.
And then there was me, Elle Coppola, who’d only had sex once in the past five
months, and who was stuck on the dream I'd had the night before of a man I
barely knew who lived 564 miles away.
The birthday girl was already there when I
arrived, and she greeted me warmly with a hug as I handed off her birthday
present—a Bond No. 9 Andy Warhol fragrance, which I purchased on Gilt so
I looked like a hero even though I'd only spent fifty bucks. Stacey greeted me
next, her enormous diamond glistening from the skylight hitting it in just in
the right spot and sending sparkle in every direction. It blinded me in the
left eye, making me wince.
“Did my ring just blind you? Oh my God, I’m so
sorry,” Stacey said, cackling.
“A little bit, but it's okay.”
Cutting me off, she said through laughter, “Erica, my diamond just
blinded Elle when she looked directly at it!”
Stacey was married to the son of Columbus’s most prominent plastic
surgeon. As a result, she had already received complimentary implants and
liposuction. I heard that shaving off the bridge of her nose before she got
pregnant was on the books too. Virtually all Stacey spoke about anymore was her
father-in-law’s high-profile status (apparently he’d
“Well,
technically yes.”
“Funny—I
always just assumed you were taken.”
“Well
I am kind of, uh, talking to someone.” I was excited to bring Jay back to the
forefront of my mind and to make him the subject of conversation with someone
other than Maureen and Jenna.
“Well
that’s great,” he said. “I hope this one works out for you.”
“It’s
really new, so we’ll see.”
Ryan
and I talked for nearly an hour while Jenna, Nick, and Gwen gossiped about
work. The only drawback to hanging out with coworkers was that professional and
personal lives tended to blend into one. Ryan and I talked about everything but
East Coast Prime, however. I learned that he too had a shelter dog and that he
lived a condo in New Albany, one of the nicer suburbs of Columbus. He studied
business management at Ohio State, and he was a Pisces. The five of us drank at
Union for another couple of hours before going our separate ways. Jenna went reluctantly
back to her husband, and I went home more buzzed than I’d intended and got cozy
with my iPad and Sunday night television.
Monday morning followed a long night of
uninterrupted sleep during which I dreamed about Jay for what felt like hours
on end. It was peculiar to dream about someone whose face you could scarcely
remember. I had fragmented recollections of his features but was having
difficulty trying to piece together the whole of his splendor. And I had a
strong sense that the whole was worth more than the sum of its parts. But Jay’s
energy alone was enough to fuel my visions while I slept and to keep me
blissfully unaware of the harsh wintry weather outside.
I used that Monday as a personal day and spent
the morning lounging around my apartment listening to music, drinking entirely
too much coffee, and savoring another day away from my office. I actually had
plans that afternoon too. It was my former roommate Erica’s twenty-ninth
birthday party. And while I didn’t fully understand why it was on a Monday
afternoon (though a few of the girls had quit their jobs after getting married,
which probably had something to do with it), I was grateful for the time off
and the chance to see everyone. Stacey, our other former housemate, had been in
charge of planning the party.
We were meeting at Jacob Neal, a spa in the
Short North, which was convenient for me because I just had to walk downstairs
and back up again when it was over (particularly convenient if I consumed too
much champagne). I was fairly certain that nearly everyone invited to the party
was either married or engaged, and at least half of the girls were pregnant.
And then there was me, Elle Coppola, who’d only had sex once in the past five
months, and who was stuck on the dream I'd had the night before of a man I
barely knew who lived 564 miles away.
The birthday girl was already there when I
arrived, and she greeted me warmly with a hug as I handed off her birthday
present—a Bond No. 9 Andy Warhol fragrance, which I purchased on Gilt so
I looked like a hero even though I'd only spent fifty bucks. Stacey greeted me
next, her enormous diamond glistening from the skylight hitting it in just in
the right spot and sending sparkle in every direction. It blinded me in the
left eye, making me wince.
“Did my ring just blind you? Oh my God, I’m so
sorry,” Stacey said, cackling.
“A little bit, but it's okay.”
Cutting me off, she said through laughter, “Erica, my diamond just
blinded Elle when she looked directly at it!”
Stacey was married to the son of Columbus’s most prominent plastic
surgeon. As a result, she had already received complimentary implants and
liposuction. I heard that shaving off the bridge of her nose before she got
pregnant was on the books too. Virtually all Stacey spoke about anymore was her
father-in-law’s high-profile status (apparently he’d
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