Pug Hill - Alison Pace [59]
Then I think something dreadful, something horrid, something that goes against every effort I’ve ever made to have a successful career. Something that goes against every hope I’ve ever had of being an independent, career-minded, successful woman. I think that if Elliot gets the promotion, I’ll be really pissed off, I’ll be really bitter, and because of all that, because he has a promotion, even if it is just for a year, that could have been mine, I won’t pine away for him anymore. As I pull my magnifying visor down over my eyes, I think that if Elliot gets the promotion, it’ll be the one thing I can think of that will set me free.
chapter eighteen
Be My Boswell
“Are you sure you’re not mad?” Pamela asks again.
“Really, I’m sure. I’m not mad,” I tell her again. There’s a pause; I wait. I have an idea what is coming next, now that I am not mad: a pep talk. Even though historically it hasn’t worked out well with Pamela and I when she administers her form of a pep talk, I feel a bit this morning like maybe I could use one. I just hope the phrase “eHarmony.com” doesn’t factor into it.
“I just think that you could have more fun than you actually aspire to have,” she begins, “you know, like at ’Cesca. It doesn’t have to be a bummer being single.”
“I’m not bummed about being single, I swear, I’m not. I don’t think it’s a bad thing and to tell you the truth, after Evan, it’s kind of nice.”
“Right.”
“Look,” I say, and I try to think how to say this, try to think how to put into words that being like Pamela, being gregarious, and outgoing, and extremely confident about everything (and not to mention long-limbed and completely fatless) makes for a far different experience being single at places like ’Cesca, a trendy pickup place. And, come to think of it, everywhere else. I take a deep breath and try.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to have fun on Friday at ’Cesca,” I explain, “it’s just not my ideal environment.”
“Nothing is an ideal environment, Hope. And also, and don’t get mad, no one is an ideal guy.” I think that also not everyone is a Sprocket, but I don’t say that because Pamela, I hate to admit, has a point.
“I know,” I say.
“Sometimes I’m not so sure if you do.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, the beginnings of annoyance sprouting up inside of me.
“I just think, and really, don’t take this the wrong way, that you might be a little too quick to make judgments about people, and that sometimes those judgments are, uh, innacurate.”
Judgments?! Judgments that are inaccurate?!
“I think that you make judgments that are inaccurate, too,” I say, trying my best not to bring up the whole shunning of my Judaism, because to tell you the truth I am pretty far from being over that one.
“Maybe I do, but we’re not talking about me right now. Look, I’m just saying this because I care about you,” Pamela explains, and actually, at the end of the day, I know that she does.
“I know you do,” I tell her and then, I feel again like I want to explain, even though it’s hard to explain things you don’t really understand yourself, and also aren’t entirely sure you believe. I decide to go for it anyway.
“It’s just, you know, it’s very different for me, I’m much more of a solitary person than you. I’m not so sure being single is something I want to run away from.”
“Oh, please, Hope,” she scoffs, “being single is something everyone wants to run away from.” And at this point, I think I am completely and utterly confused.
“But you’re the one always saying to embrace it!”
“The only reason to embrace being single is so that you don’t have to be it anymore,