Cocktails and Cottages

I shower and change and turn up the tunes. Pour another beer and wait for my guests. I text Charlotte that everything is A-OK at the house and Hil is managing the Big P just fine (at least according to Facebook) and that I have fully registered for eHarmony and that I didn't think it possible but it actually made me feel more lonely. What???

I tell her about Jack and that I think I sent him a smile (whatever that means) but the rest of the matches are complete duds and I am convinced I have already dated (or she has married) the only worthwile men currently on the planet. I've had my chances and squandered them all.

She will have none of my boo-hooing but says she wants to interview all of my dates and there will be no underperformers getting through the tollgate. I can only imagine the interview questions. The role playing. The rifling through of the wallets, the bank statements, the criminal histories, the resumes, the school transcripts, the divorce decrees, custody agreements, restraining orders, tax records. I am sure only the strong will survive. And probably run screaming in the other direction, not stopping until they've crossed a minimum of 6 counties.

But Jack gives me hope. Maybe he'll smile back (again, whatever that means).

Terry and Mick arrive from their firehouse gig and pull into the driveway. I come down the steps to greet them and offer to pour a few pints before we go up. Terry takes me up on it (that's my girl!) but Mick wants to snooze in the hammock. He's had enough beer.

Terry comes into the house and is wildly in love with the place. And in fact, admits to having driven through the hamlet before and not quite understanding the hype. Now that her GPS has taken her on a leisurely meandering over hill and dale, she is passionately in love with the place. Tells me she wants to take a walk through the whole neighborhood when we've finished our beer.

Why finish? We can take them with us?

Now she is even more in love. We top off the pints and head out into the twilight. The twinkling lights are just coming on on all of the porches. The play is just beginning at the Playhouse. The crowds are forming at the ice cream shop and the cottage porches are filling with cocktailing grownups and board gaming kids. It is a typical night. One of the many things that draws me here.

Terry and I have not had a chance to talk this week and have much to catch up on.

I tell her about my frustrating job search. She tells me about her new project at work and the asshole who is threatened by her enormous talent.

I tell her about my angst about going to court on Monday. She gives me an emotional pat on the back and tells me she'll be on hand for tears and beers or even hiding places.

I tell her about Craig's vanishing act and how sad it has made me. That it has surprised me how anything - anyone - could affect me at all after all of the life I've lived in the last year. She is careful not to dis him but tells me what she has said before: I am a prize and any man who does not realize it is a boob. And further, I have been given a chance to reinvent my whole life, including career and love life and goals to be writer. I need to nab them and leave the past in the dust.

She tells me about a cool new art technique she learned and that she'd like to set up a workshop here among the cottages. I tell her about the French linen store and the workshop space they have for rent.

This is a very productive little walk we're taking.

We return to the cottage, check in on the snoring Mick, refill our beers and head out again, yakking and sightseeing and taking down addresses of houses for sale and open houses that are scheduled. We've had a few beers so we are also peeking in windows of vacant cottages, ooohing and aaahing about the decor and the design.

And then I lower the boom. Tell her about eHarmony. She nearly croaks. I tell her I need help with my profile; I have no idea what I'm doing. Terry remains a man magnet even as a married woman. Men adore her. Thank God she has found her soulmate in Mike or she'd never have time to work for all the dating. She's exactly who needs to help me. And her husband's opinion wouldn't exactly hurt either.

She calls Mick and tells him we need to go to the biker bar around the corner. We have a mission.