Sunday Breakfast

They got together at their little diner this morning again. Four women at different stages of their lives, gather around greasy omelettes and scalding coffee to dish on everything that already happened, is currently going on and shall come to pass.

Nope, once again it is not “Sex and the Bronx”. I bet you those bums stole the diner idea from us. But yes, my three old friends and I gather whenever we can and talk over coffee, eggs and toast at our noisy and warm diner in the Bronx. There is a lot to talk about. One of us (la femme fatale) lives in Chicago, adopted two dogs, and now wants to adopt a kid. One of us (the prim seductive preppy) came full circle and is now once again living in the Bronx with the love of her life, which once again proves that people are linked to some locations and destinies and will never change them. The third one (the diminutive artist) is still where she was all those years ago, debating over her life, career, boyfriend and the Bronx… forever debating. Not decided yet. I, the fourth one, (not the oldest, or the smartest, or the blondest, but certainly the meatiest) have changed yet one more apartment, maybe accepting her fifth simultaneous job, and still in search of that elusive love that never comes my way.

In a way, there is progress. My friends are all in commited relationships, happily living in sin. Don’t ask me why. My preppy seductress refuses to get married and relinquish her independence, even as she rushes home to lovingly prepare her non-husband’s sandwich for work. The dark eyed femme fatale unconsciously touches her engagement ring while she talks about the perfect poor little orphan waiting for a mommy and daddy to save him, yet she has no set wedding date either. And the artist is simply living two realities. Do I detect a trend here?

I am not saying that the world has turned down on its head since it is the women who avoid the last link to the old balls and chain, while the balls and chain are clamoring for it. I am just saying that I am turning traditionalist. I do not understand why they do not get married and start with the next stage of their life. In my eyes, they have already relinquished their independence and their egoes to make room for the dual one or whatever it is that couples replace singlehood with. Once you find the person you want to be shackled with, the rest is pretty easy no? It does not look like it.

It suddenly hits me why I have so much difficulty accepting their situations. I want to see the fairy tale’s happy ending unfold in front of my eyes. This year has been a bit surreal, what with my ex-crush and his ex-girlfriend both expecting children at almost the same exact time, engaged but not married;  my baby nephew changing every minute in front of my eyes (apparently engaged but not married yet); and everybody else popping babies left and right. I discover once again that I am still waiting for the big finale, the one that will make it to the books, or the stories for grandkiddies, or the romantic movies we might write.

Well, I go back home and blow a wish on my peppermint tea. Here is to white weddings and happy endings for my friends through which I will vicariously live.

2 thoughts on “Sunday Breakfast

  1. People move on Blete. In a way you are lucky they are not married and have kids yet. Once they do, you will be way down on their list of priorities. So enjoy this non-fairytale like ending.

  2. Oh I am quite secure in their affections. And I am ok with not being a priority. I just wish they can make honest men of their partners so I can be an aunt again.

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