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September 14, 2005


About six months ago, a friend (who shall remain unnamed) (because this is kind of an embarrassing story) called me up with a dilemma about her love life. But I was well and good into my divorce and in no position to give advice, so I decided we should do the next best thing.


And so I asked her: When faced with this exact same dilemma, What Would Lorelai Gilmore Do?

Granted, living your life based upon the witticism and self-confidence of a fictional TV character may not seem like a great idea, but IT WAS THE BEST I COULD DO AT THE TIME. And it worked well enough. After all, with my history, who'd take relationship advice from me?

From the time I was allowed to date until the time I got married, I spent approximately three hours single. I was one of those girls who had a boyfriend or a massive all-encompassing boy crush that dwarfed the sun AT ALL TIMES. Getting married was blah blah blah THE NADIR OF MY EXISTENCE.

Except that ... it wasn't, really. We had some good times, we had some bad times, and then it ended. Kind of abruptly. During the past year, I have traveled through the following phases of divorce:

August - October, 2004: Please don't go; Please put me out of my misery; Please pass the wine and cheetos; I hate you.

November 2004 - January 2005: Please make the holidays go away; Please come back; Please drop dead; Please pass the wine and oreos; I hate everyone.

February - March 2005: Please pass the wine and yarn; Please shut up; Please go screw yourself; Wow it really feels good to hang up on your sorry ass!

April - May 2005: There is a yarn shop in Burbank! And one in Encino! And two on Ventura! Please pass the circular needles; Please hand me that wine glass; Please help me find a lawyer; HA HA YOU HAVE A GOATEE.

June 2005: Birhday whining interlude. Followed by "Divorce Court: A Tragedy."

July - August 2005: Work is hard, wine is good, yarn is better. Scant free time leads to yearning for hermit-like solitude. Hard-earned solitude is spent pondering navel. Navel is happy.

And now it's September, exactly one year since Mr. X left me and the cats forever, and ... color me shitshocked, but I'm pretty happy! True, I can't fit into any of my cute jeans and my job is trying to possibly kill me to death, and I NEED A VACATION DAY, but overall I whine less and ... I'm pretty happy.

Me! Happy! -ish!

Last night, however, my best friend TeeVee told me that Lorelai is getting married. And even though me and Lorelai are kind of moving in different directions and all, we're still cool. Because for the first time in my entire life I am perfectly happy being alone. While she's off proposing to Luke, I'm over here discovering that I don't want a boyfriend. At all.

I haven't turned burning-bed-man-hater on everyone, but this is the only time in the past seventeen years I have been completely FREE to OD on estrogen. I can do whatever I want, with no concern about whether it makes me seem cute to some guy. I don't have to fake rapt attention to any conversation pertaining to computer games, sports, motorcycles, sports, supermodels with no cellulite, cars, or sports. My opinions are all mine. I don't do anyone else's dirty dishes or dirty laundry. I can be 100% totally myself without worrying if he'll still like me, or think I'm pretty.

It's the most liberating thing that has ever happened to me.

And aside from my obvious TV-induced psychosis, in which I am giving advice based upon fictional television characters, I think Lorelai Gilmore would be proud. Especially if she were real. Which of course she's not.



Posted by laurie at September 14, 2005 9:57 AM