The Last Single Girl

THE LAST SINGLE GIRL

by
CAITIE QUINN
* * * * *

ONE

DATING TRUTH #1: Just when you've comfortably established a group of single girlfriends, disaster strikes.

"JONATHON IS EVERYTHING I ever wanted in a guy." Angie spun the cocktail stirrer around her martini. "I can't believe my brother never brought him home before. I mean, they've been best friends since college."

She said it as if
college
was decades ago instead of only a couple years. I couldn't help but wonder if maybe knowing his sister would steal his best friend was why he'd never brought Jonathan home. He'd been hiding the poor guy. Caving meant he'd probably lost him forever.

"Wow." Claire grinned. It made me nervous.

It wasn't that she didn't like Angie. But Claire's sense of humor was cutting, even if it was right on. She had the wardrobe of Carrie Bradshaw and the wit of Dorothy Parker. Her commentary always felt like it came out of nowhere. Like a summer cold. One day you're at the beach, then—Bam!—you're sick in bed. She kind of scared me.

"Going home must be the way to find a guy," Claire continued before a drama-pause. "I got back together with Marcus."

"Really?" Becca pushed her drink out of her way. "How did that happen?"

Not surprisingly, I was lost. "Who's Marcus?"

Claire waved down the waitress and pointed to her half-f drink, not bothering to look my way. "I always forget you weren't around for that."

The truth was, I wasn't around for a lot of things with these ladies.

Last fall I'd had a lovely group of girlfriends. Just like any group, you had an inner circle of friends and loosely touching outer circles. Like a Venn diagram of relationships. A comfy little life with plenty of friends to go around.

Until the first engagements… then weddings… then houses in the suburbs happened. Next thing you know, your inner circle is married and there you are. Left with a mish-mash of looser, less cohesive circles. Still a nice little group though. Life was good.

Until Thanksgiving week.

"Marcus and I grew up together, but didn't start dating until senior year of college. When we graduated, he moved back to run the family's construction company and I moved here to go into advertising. Can you see
me
living in the Great American Farmland?"

No. I really couldn't. Claire refused to let anyone without local celebrity status touch her hair or skin. Just staying groomed would mean monthly four-hour drives.

"But when I saw him at the football game Thursday, it was like we'd never been apart and… Well, let's just say everything is back on track."

She sounded so happy—so
not
Claire—I didn't have the heart to ask how it was going to work out this time around.

"I can't believe you guys hooked up over the weekend, because"—Becca drew the word out and I knew what was coming. "I met the greatest guy on the plane. He's a lawyer in New York. We sat next to each other. I've never been so happy to be stuck on the tarmac for three hours. He changed his flight so we did part of our return together too. And,"—Becca sucked in an excited breath before finishing in a rush—"he's coming here for New Year's."

I sat back listening to them gush about their guys—new and recycled—and their trips and the New Year and how great the holiday was going to be.

"You know what we should do? If they're all coming here, we should change our reservation for New Year's."

Wait. What?
No
.

"We'll just add them to our table."

"But I thought it was sold out." I tried to keep the desperation out of my voice. We'd planned this months ago. The single girls having a fun night out. No couples making us feel all single-loserish on the second biggest date night of the year.

"I'll call my ticket guy right now. I'm sure he can hook us up." Claire was on her phone before I could say
girls' night.
"Hi, handsome. It's Claire. I'm looking for a favor." She laughed her that's-not-funny-but-I-need-something-from-you laugh before flashing our table a grin. "Oh, you're too sweet… I know, right? I need a little help with our table for the Murder on the Rocks party… I know, right? I'm going to look fabulous in my flapper dress. The whole roaring twenties murder mystery is genius."

Angie and Becca both pushed their drinks aside to lean in, listening over the rumble of the growing bar crowd.

"Well, we'd like to get a few more people seated with us. Is there anyway we could shuffle them in? Uh-huh… Yup… Absolutely. I can make sure you get on the list for that opening… Of course. Well, we need three more."

"Wait." Angie waved her hand in front of Clair. "What about Sarah?"

Everyone turned my way and I was tempted to tell them I was engaged and getting married on New Year's Eve if they and their newly found plus-ones were available.

"Oh. Sarah, did you meet someone too?" Since the beginning of time—otherwise known as Julie's wedding four years ago—Claire disliked me on sight. Her competitive nature seemed to triple around me. Only I didn't really know what we were competing over, so I just tried to stay out of her way.

I thought about lying, but knew faking a boyfriend would lead to all kinds of social pitfalls I couldn't navigate. Plus, I'd seen
The Wedding Date.
That was
so
a path I didn't want to walk down.

"No. Not really." I dragged the
really
out hoping they'd read something into it I didn't mean—like maybe there was a guy I'd been holding out on them about. An amazingly hot guy who owned a small, undisclosed island off the coast of a certain wealthy country.
Obviously
I couldn't talk about him for security reasons.

"Say four," Angie whispered. "I'm sure Sarah won't have a problem getting a date."

Claire cocked an eyebrow at me as if she not only knew how doubtful it was, but she expected me to back her up.

Oh, no, Claire. Don't ask for a fourth seat. We all know no one would ever want to go out with me, let alone give up one of the best party nights of the year to hang out with a nerdy museum curator.

Right.

Instead, I just smiled.

And thought nasty thoughts.

Claire tilted her head as if she could read my mind and smiled in a way that clearly said,
Oh. You poor thing.

"Why don't you make it four? That's a full table, right?" Claire grinned and nodded. "Just put it on my credit card. We'll take care of splitting it on our end."

Great. Way to kick yourself in the rear, Sarah. Exactly what makes the holidays shiny. Paying for an empty chair.

TWO

DATING TRUTH #2: No man will ever understand and love you like your best friend does.

"THIS IS JANE. I'm either lugging around my beautiful daughter or hanging out with my gorgeous husband. Or I'm lying and cleaning the toilets. Either way, leave a message after the beep."

BEEP.

"Hey Jane. It's Sarah. Just calling to chat. Hope your Thanksgiving was great. Give me a ring." I paused, about to hang up, then rushed on before I could cave. "Also, I'm emailing you something right now. If you could look at it, not show Matt, and not tell anyone, that would be great. Okaythanksbye."

I hurried through the last words, hanging up before I could change my mind.

I was feeling panicked. I knew this happened. Knew someone had to have the
honor.
But I never thought I might be
the last single girl
.

It felt like a title.

Maybe I should have business cards made.

Or…maybe not.

It wasn't just the idea of being the last single girl. It was everything that went with it. The things you weren't invited to because people thought you'd be uncomfortable alone. The way Certain Women always reminded you they had someone… and you didn't. The feeling of loneliness you sometimes felt, even with your best friend because you knew you were no longer
her
best friend.

And so, like any emotionally cornered woman, I did something extreme.

I joined eLove.com to try to find someone special—or not horrible—for New Year's.

The internet had found me everything else of import over the last few years: An apartment, a job, a car… that Kate Spade bag. So, yes, I had some confidence in the internet.

But as I glanced over my ad, I knew there was no way around it. Jane was going to have to be my voice of reason. Every time I reread it, all I could think was any sane person would assume a golden retriever puppy was looking for a date.

I'd actually said I liked sunny days and enjoyed a nice hike before curling up in front of my fireplace for a cozy night in.

Why didn't I just add a picture of my favorite chew toy?

Of course, I was a golden retriever with very expensive shoes and a condo in town, but still.

I hit send and tried to pretend my best friend wasn't somewhere looking at her iPhone and laughing hysterically.

It took a lot more effort than I wanted to admit.

While I waited to hear back, I did what any logical woman would do—I went to the library and got every book on dating written in the last four years.

Yes, I used the self-checkout line.

I skimmed through them all, glancing at 'rules' and making notes about profiles. I created lists of what were Must Haves and No Ways and then crossed half of them off after every book added you couldn't be too picky.

Most of the books had dual personalities like that.

Part of me wanted to ignore the phone when Jane's ringtone sounded. She'd gotten back to me about four hours faster than expected. Obviously my message—or personal ad—warranted a fairly immediate phone call. That couldn't be a good sign.

I hit the answer button and started before she could. "If you laugh, I'm hanging up, moving out of state, and you'll never see me again."

"I'm not laughing. I've been married less than two years. I remember how much it stunk trying to find the right guy."

I knew she did. She never pulled any of that married crap. That,
Oh, just wait and the right guy will show up
OR
If you just did fill-in-the-blank you wouldn't be living your life alone.

"Honestly, I'm glad you sent it to me. I made a bunch of changes." Jane made a soft cooing sound. I could only assume it was for the baby. Although, if I were being honest, it
was
an oddly reassuring noise. "Who knows you better than I do, right? I may be partial, but I love you and I'll kick anyone's rear-end who doesn't appreciate you the way he should."

My eyes teared up. I held the phone away from my head and sniffed, not wanting her to know how much her words affected me.

"I just sent it. You should get it in a second." More cooing, then a soft splash. "I'm giving Dahlia her bath. Or she's giving me a bath, one or the other. Tell me, why the sudden urge to e-date?"

I didn't want to own up to my impending spinsterhood, but she probably saw it coming anyway. I filled her in on our New Year's plans and how everyone magically came home from Thanksgiving weekend with a boyfriend. How girls' night out had become the third—make that seventh—wheel fiasco.

"So, The Alphabet just changed all your plans and expected you to hang with them and their new boyfriends?"

Jane had been calling them The Alphabet since before she'd gotten married. The three of them—Angie, Becca, and Claire—had known each other the longest. As the single girls fell to the wayside, Claire had scooped up her compatriots and made herself Alpha-something-else-that-starts-with-B.

I think they'd been surprised to find me among their ranks. Maybe if my name had been Deirdre….

"Yup. Claire got four seats added to our table."

"I never liked her." Jane was, among other things, fiercely loyal. "And it's not just that she treats you like an afterthought. She's never kind to anyone. Kittens couldn't melt her."

"Well, the girl has connections. There's no party she can't get us into."

"Right. Because you've always been such a party girl. I know how those museum curators are. Crazier than rock stars."

"You totally underestimate the rock star'ness of some of my sistren."

"Why don't you just come here? You know you're always welcome. You don't need a guy to get into my house."

The best part of the statement was I knew she meant it. It wasn't a pity thing, or a
because-we're-friends-I-have-to-say-this
thing.

"I know. And thanks. But I have to have a life outside the museum, and occasionally visiting you and Michelle." I choked back the rest of the words about how I was starting to feel left behind and how I was afraid of being alone—not just with no boyfriend, but with no free girlfriends.

"There's no sense in being miserable on New Year's just to prove you can. We're having a game night. Michelle and Roger are coming over. Our new neighbors Mitch and Emily will be here. We hired a neighborhood girl to babysit."