why your 20s are disconcerting

Morgan:  Does it ever freak you out a little bit that [girl who we 

         lived with in college] is....a doctor?

         I mean, this is the girl who not once, not twice, but 

         three times forgot she left her cell phone in her pants, 
         and put them in the washing machine.

Me:      It would freak me out less if [this girl] was the only 

         person I knew who made me think, "....seriously?  They're 
         letting you be a doctor/lawyer/CPA/other relatively 
         responsible person?"

Morgan:  TESTIFY.

vikram, part 1

July: Nick is making fun of me again. I’m telling him the latest news, but he can’t keep the characters straight, so I have to go through and remind him of all the names.

Him:  generic white names

all of them

I could have pulled them out of a hat

Me:   next time I am picking someone to date I will find a Vikram, 

      okay?

just for you

October: I’m at a Halloween party in someone’s back yard, drinking cheap rum from a red plastic cup. I’m dressed like a Girl Scout, in knee socks and a skirt that would horrify my mother. I am too old for this.

But when he walks in, I perk up a little. He’s instantly noticeable, even in the middle of his pack of friends, and I think it’s his build – slim hips, broad shoulders under a thin tee shirt. And dark skin. Big liquid eyes. I won’t even notice until we go on our first date that his nose is also big.

I make eyes at him once or twice. Being a girl makes things so easy. (Okay, this skirt probably doesn't hurt.) In any case, it works: He comes over to introduce himself.

"Hi," he says, extending his hand. "I'm Vikram."

Bingo.