EMILY

Saturday mornings were evil. Especially after staying up way too late drinking wine and watching sappy movies.

I groaned as I rolled over to look out the window. The sun was already up high enough to stream light beams through my window. I didn’t hear any noise coming from the living room. That’s where I left Maggie last night after she passed out. Being a good friend, I covered her with a quilt.

My head felt like it was going to split open at any moment from the little monsters inside beating on their drums. Bastards!

Slowly, I moved from the bed and to my bathroom. Looking into the mirror, I took inventory. My hair was still dark auburn. There were no nasty little grey hairs sneaking their way in yet. It was long and curly, which made my morning routine easy. Either I braided my hair, twisted it up on top of my head, or I wore it long and wild. I hated to fuss. I liked to get up and get on with my day, not spend hours in front of a mirror. Turning around, I glanced over my shoulder to check out my back side. My butt still looked like it was in place and not resting on the top of my legs yet. I wasn’t skinny, but I wasn’t chubby either. Since I worked from home in front of a computer all day, I knew I needed to get out and exercise more often. I was a freelance editor. Some days it was too easy to get lost in a great story and spend hours curled up in a chair reading. I needed to make a point of getting up and moving around.

Turning on a stream of cool water, I splashed my face to wake up. Dressing in a pair of yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt, I headed to the kitchen to find some aspirin. I knew I had a jumbo bottle somewhere just for occasions like this.

As I passed by Maggie, I momentarily thought I should take a picture of her. It wouldn’t be nice of me and it wasn’t pretty. Her wild mass of hair was hiding part of her face and her mouth was open. A little bit of drool had dried on the corner of her chin, leaving a white crusty blob. One leg was resting against the back of the couch pillows and the other was hanging off with a foot on the floor. The quilt I had covered her with was bunched up over her body in a tangled mess. A soft snore escaped her lips. Hmmm … I couldn’t remember where I put my cell phone. Honestly, I was a lousy friend that way, but then so was Maggie. If we ever hated one another, there would be a photo war on Facebook due to the hundreds of horrid pictures we’d taken of each other. That’s what best friends did. We reminded each other we were human.

After finding the aspirin and taking three, head still pounding, I started the coffee. Thank God for Keurig coffee machines. They made my morning medicine in less than a minute.

Filling two mugs, I headed back toward Maggie. She was still sprawled over my couch, but at least her eyes were open, glazed but definitely open. I set her coffee on the table in front of her.

“I love you more than life, Em,” Maggie proclaimed as she sat up and pushed her dark, wild mane of hair out of her face. Using her fingers and the binder that always seemed to be on her wrist, she pulled her hair into a messy knot on top of her head. Maggie made frumpy look chic. Reaching for her coffee, she took a sip, wincing from the heat.

“So … are you really going to quit dating for a while?” she asked, thinking back to the conversation last night.

“I am. I’m tired of the drama. I think I want to see if I can find me in this mess I’ve made. It was fine in my twenties, but I’m thirty-three. It’s time to grow up and get it figured out.”

Maggie didn’t say anything.

“Do you doubt I can stick to this not-dating thing?”

Maggie lifted her mug to her lips and softly blew on the coffee to cool it down a bit, stalling and thinking before she answered.

“I think you can do it, Em, but do it the right way.

I know you. You can’t just stay home and hide. You can’t take on the attitude that all men suck just because you choose not to date them. If you really want to change, you have to work on it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked her.

“Don’t get mad at me, okay?”

“I won’t,” I assured her and I wouldn’t. I honestly wanted her to tell me why she had doubts.

“In the past, you’ve sworn you were going to change. The kind of guys you dated, the things you did, how you acted, the beating yourself up shit. I know you wanted to, but you never really changed your thoughts. First, you need to change how you think and how you react. Once you can do that, the rest will come.”

“When did you get so smart?” I really liked everything she was telling me.

“Self-help section at the library,” she joked.

“Seriously, I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking. My own life has been kind of boring lately. I want to make some changes, too. This isn’t the life I envisioned years ago, and the only way it’s going to change is if I do something about it. I talked to Andrea about it when we were out for happy hour last week. She recommended a few books.”

Andrea was a woman we'd gotten to know the past year. I kind of forced her into joining Maggie and me one night at Louie’s Bar. She was sitting by herself looking a little lost and lonely. I didn’t ask her story and she never told us. Andrea just slowly became a part of our little circle. She was also a psychologist so that came in handy when a bit of life coaching was warranted.

Since all three of us were single, we tended to hang out socially when the need arose. To be perfectly honest, most of the time I would rather spend my time out with the girls.

Giving up on dating would be easier than my friends thought because as long as “the one” was still in my heart, relationships didn’t stand a chance with me. Maybe I should look into an exorcism.