1.
"How is this even possible?!" Janet swiped furiously at the tears running down her face as she yelled into the phone. Why was she even crying? She wasn't sad -- she was fucking furious. "How could
he
dump
me
?!"
"Oh honey, I know... Why don't I come back to the apartment so we can talk about it," Samantha soothed on the other end of the line.
"Four years!
Four years
I wasted on that immature, ridiculous man-boy and
he
dumps
me
!"
"Tommy's an idiot... he's going to totally regret it once he realizes what he's giving up..."
"Ugh, please, no hackneyed platitudes right now," Janet fumed.
Her roommate was unaffronted; they were much closer than that. "I mean it, Jan. You'll find someone way better."
"How?!" Janet countered crossly. "I'm not a blonde bombshell like you, with guys falling all over me everywhere I go..."
"Oh, stop that..! You're gorgeous and you know it, so just quit it. Now, I'm coming over. Just wait for me and we'll make some margaritas."
"Oh, don't bother," Janet groaned, the angry energy suddenly evaporating, leaving her deflated. "I just want to be alone right now anyway..."
"Janet, come on. Don't be depressed. It's fine. You couldn't stand Tommy anyway.
I
couldn't stand Tommy.
Michael
couldn't stand Tommy. Now, you're free to finally find someone who's not a complete D-bag."
"Yea, but how long will that
take
?" Janet burst out, agonized. There it was, what was really at the heart of her forlorn despondency.
Time
. Inexorably marching forward. Already, she was doing all of the life-planning arithmetic in her head: who knew how long to find someone who was at least possibly compatible, dating a year or two to figure out if that was even true or not, before hopefully being engaged for a year, trying for kids after a year or two, being pregnant for the better part of a year...
Janet had always wanted to settle down and live the cliche American dream -- start a family somewhere out in the burbs, a house with a white picket fence, a big golden retriever in the yard, a minivan in the driveway... And here she was, post-thirty five, newly single, renting an apartment in the city, and it was hard to see how, even if her life somehow reversed course and went perfectly from here on, that she could possibly crank out a kid before she turned
forty