A State of Jane

by Schorr, Meredith

  Marissa's face brightened as she reached into her bag. “Yes! I completely forgot. Here,” she said, handing me an assortment of sample sized perfumes. “I'm not sure if any of them are good but you can have them all.”

  I happily threw them into my pocketbook. “Thank you! I'm almost out of my Michael Kors.”

  Smiling, Marissa said, “What are friends for?”

  Later that night, I excitedly sat at my computer desk and logged onto eHarmony. I had twenty-three new matches and wondered if my future husband was among them. The first eligible bachelor was Peter. He was 5′5″. Since I was 5′6″, I clicked “not interested.” The second match was Nate. He was cute with short brown hair, dark skin and broad shoulders. And at 5′11″, he was the perfect height for me. He was a financial consultant so he could probably meet my intellectual standards and since he loved home cooked meals and I was a master in the kitchen, we were probably a perfect match. I confirmed my interest and moved onto the next – Brett. Brett posed shirtless with a harem of women in every picture. I figured he didn't need another girlfriend and clicked “not interested.”

  I finished reviewing the remaining twenty matches, confirming interest in four of them and climbed into bed.

  I closed my eyes and imagined where Nate would take me on our first date. Hopefully not Smiler's Deli. Later, I dreamed about swim-up bars and sex on the beach with Nate on our honeymoon. The dreams were interrupted only once when I woke up in a panic remembering I had forgotten to study for the LSAT. I made a mental vow to spend an extra hour the following night and fell back against the pillow, anxious to return to my dream.

  CHAPTER 3

  “My routine follow up regarding the status of your hair,” I said into the phone a few days later. When Bob and I broke up, we promised to keep in touch. He told me he'd forget to get his hair cut without me to remind him and so I vowed to call him periodically. Not too often, since I actually preferred when his thick locks got a little unruly and cartoonish, but often enough so he wouldn't look like a bum.

  Chuckling, Bob said, “I've got it under control. Got it cut a couple weeks ago. Running my hand through it now and it didn't get stuck.”

  “That's a good sign! So what's new?” I got ready to feign interest in the newest addition to his video game collection.

  “Actually, there's something I want to tell you.”

  “OK.”

  “This is weird.”

  “What could be too weird to tell me? You told me once that you fantasized about a three-way with me and Judy Jetson. That was weird!”

  “She's hot, Jane. No apologies for that one. But this is something else.”

  I felt my insides tighten. “What? Just tell me.” For a moment, all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing but then he said it.

  “I'm seeing someone, Jane.”

  I sat down on the edge of my bed and took a deep breath. Bob was dating someone? I'd estimated his recovery time at least six months longer than mine since he was on the receiving end of the break-up. He was supposed to still be grieving our relationship! “That's great, Bob! I've started dating again too.” Technically. And I was sure whatever he had going on was casual.

  Clearing his throat, Bob said, “Actually, it got serious kind of fast.”

  I lay back on the bed, held the phone away from my ear for a moment and swallowed hard. I brought the phone back to my ear and said, “Oh? Has she met Arlene yet?” Bob was the ultimate mama's boy. Arlene had to be on board with any girl he got serious with.

  “Yeah. Mom loves her.”

  “Really? I mean cool. That's great, Bob.”

  “There's more.”

  What? Did she and Mr. Krauss bond on a fishing trip or something? “OK?”

  “We're moving in together. She has a one bedroom in the West Village so I'm giving up my studio when the lease expires in a couple of months.”

  Words continued to escape Bob's lips, but I stopped listening. I couldn't believe he was moving on faster than me. If I'd waited only six months instead of a year, this wouldn't have happened. “Great, Bob. I'm happy for you. Can't wait to meet her.”

  “Awesome! We're gonna have a party after I move in. You'll meet Trish then. You'll like her.”

  Trish? I went to high school with a girl named Trish. Hated her.

  No need to panic, Jane. The party was at least a month away. I'd totally have a boyfriend by then. Maybe even Nate. Everything would be fine. So I hadn't given much thought to Bob moving on but it had to happen someday, right? The timing could have been better, like after I was already settled, but it wasn't the worst thing in the world. It wasn't like I wanted to be with Bob and I certainly didn't want him to be alone for the rest of his life. It just proved what I'd said to Claire earlier, that I was ready. It was time. Time for Bob to move on and time for me to move on.

  After I hung up the phone, I immediately logged onto eHarmony. Nate and I had completed all of the steps and were now given access to “open communication,” which I learned meant that we could email each other directly. I had discovered during the various stages of, I'd guess you'd call it “closed communication,” that among Nate's must-haves were compassion, fidelity and honesty. Among his must NOT-haves were laziness, intolerance and insensitivity. He seemed perfect and I just knew there would be an email from him waiting for me.

  I scrolled the list of active matches, past Andrew, Todd, and Christian, to the thumbnail picture of Nate leaning against the side of a sail boat. But his picture wasn't there. I figured in my haste I had scrolled too fast, so I went back to the top of the page and gave it another scan but Nate's profile was still not there. Thinking there might be a separate section on the site for open-communication matches, I carefully scrutinized the page, but I didn't see any other sections aside from closed matches.

  I got up and brought my dirty coffee cup to the kitchen. Lainie was sitting at our kitchen table. She was speaking with her Southern accent, which I noticed only came out when she talked to her mom. She was holding the phone in one hand and playing with her curly hair in the other but she looked up, removed her hand from her hair and waved. I mouthed “hello” and put my coffee mug in the dishwasher. It was full and containing dishes from Lainie's dinner with her boy-toy of the week but, not surprisingly, she waited for me to run it. Our dishwasher was particularly loud and so I ran it, hoping Lainie would not be able to hear her mother and went back to my room. Her negligence in the way of household duties was wearing thin on me. But I found her on Craig's List and was just happy she wasn't a psychopath.

  Back in my room, I searched one more time for Nate under active matches and he still wasn't there. It didn't make sense. Where could he have gone? I muttered, “Freakin’ weird,” double clicked closed-matches and there he was, smiling at me from what I had hoped was his parent's boat. (I'd always wished my parents would buy a boat but my dad said, “The two best days in a boat owner's life are the day he buys a boat and the day he sells it.”)

  I didn't understand why Nate's profile was now in my closed matches. There had to be an explanation. We had breezed through the entire process. I knew he was as anxious to meet me as I him. Firmly gripping my mouse, I held my breath and scanned the page until I saw it. Nate had closed me out earlier that day, citing “different values” as his reason. How was that possible?

  Pacing my room, I nervously picked up clothes I had strewn across the floor that morning when I noticed that the black slacks I had intended to wear weren't as flattering as the last time I'd worn them. I had to try on three more pairs before finding ones that didn't emphasize my saddlebags. I vowed to add squats to my workout routine even though I hated them.

  Different values? We shared almost all of the same must-haves and must not-haves! I reviewed his profile one more time. I wondered if I could write eHarmony and request a further explanation. I logged off my computer and fell back onto my bed. I couldn't possibly focus on studying after this disturbing turn of events.

  My eyes
closed, I took deep breaths in and out and pictured myself on the beach in Hawaii with my soul mate. I couldn't picture what he looked like, but it wasn't Nate. Maybe it was Andrew, Todd, or Christian but not Nate. And it was probably just as well. The right guy for me would never be so hasty as to assume our values were different based on a silly profile. God was doing me a favor by showing me Nate's true colors before we even met so I wouldn't waste my time. Certain Nate just wasn't the one, I smiled. It was all good.

  CHAPTER 4

  “You went to bed early last night, Jane. You didn't come out to watch Desperate Housewives. It was a new one.”

  I grabbed my Greek yogurt from the fridge and threw it in the pink Gucci bag Claire had bought me on her honeymoon in Italy. “I know. I just wasn't in the mood. I'll watch it online later.” After I study for the LSAT. “Some guy on eHarmony closed me out right after we got to open communication. So weird!”

  “Not really,” Lainie said. “Happens all the time. That's why I never get excited about a guy until we've met face to face. Or mouth to mouth.” She winked.

  Nodding I said, “You're right. I dodged a bullet. If he couldn't follow through with an email, he's probably a commitment-phobe.”

  Lainie leaned against the refrigerator and smiled. “Look at Jane always putting on a positive spin!”

  “Everything happens for a reason,” I said matter-of-factly. I couldn't even remember the name of the guy I had crushed on before meeting Bob, but I remembered feeling rejected when he didn't pay any attention to me. Later, I knew it was because Bob, not him, was supposed to be my first boyfriend.

  “I'd love to know the reason God put all the asshole single guys on the island of Manhattan! They are only good for one thing, some of them better than others.”

  “You're so jaded, Lainie. They aren't all assholes. You just haven't met the right guy yet.” But you certainly bring enough of the wrong ones back to our apartment.

  “I'm all about trial and error. Who knows if my next guinea pig will be on the 6 train this morning? I have a pitch meeting at nine-thirty. ” Lainie worked as a production assistant for the WE Network. They had weekly meetings to brainstorm original content. She wanted to work for the male-targeted Spike Network but they only had offices in California. She removed her sunglasses from the neckline of her low-cut sweater, placed them on her head and began walking out of the kitchen. “You coming?”

  “Sure.”

  I followed her down two flights of stairs outside onto 82nd Street. I breathed in the fresh air and looked upwards at the cloudless sky. Since it was usually rainy and cold, hot and humid, or some other “extreme” weather condition, the weather like we were having that day was a rarity. “You know what? I'm gonna walk. It's only thirty blocks and it's still early.” I had to stop at the bank anyway and there was an HSBC on 68th and Third.

  Enjoying the cool breeze, I picked up the pace and smiled as I walked to work. The fact that the distinguished looking older business man thought the smile was directed at him and winked at me was just an added benefit. I would include his wink on my daily “grateful” list. He was too old for me, but it reinforced my confidence that someone besides Bob would find me attractive. According to a poll in Cosmopolitan, confidence was the biggest turn-on to men.

  Men. My noteworthy experiences with the gender were limited to my nine-year relationship with Bob. I had defined myself as his girlfriend for my entire adult life up until a year ago and some people thought I was a fool to have broken up with him. I hadn't ended things because Bob did something wrong, like cheat on me or treat me badly, and it wasn't that I thought I was “better” than him. I just knew in my gut that he wasn't “the one.”

  When I first met him in camp at the age of sixteen, having done nothing more than kiss a few boys at high school dances and in closets during Seven Minutes In Heaven, I woke up each morning infused with nervous excitement to see him. I wondered if he'd show any signs that his interest went beyond co-counselor camaraderie and it gave me something to look forward to each day besides bug juice and chasing sweaty little boys across the soccer field. He'd hug me after I got a base hit in softball or walk away from other girls at parties to talk to me, and it made me feel special. We made out for the first time in the hot tub at Glenn Kellerman's house party. I was afraid he would just blow it off as a result of too much cheap keg beer, but the next morning in camp, he pulled me to a corner of our musty bunk, told me he liked me, and asked me to the movies that night.

  After that, we officially became girlfriend and boyfriend and the nervous excitement and uncertainty were replaced by passion and exploding hormones. In nine years we'd experienced the thrills of first love, the scariness of letting someone else in, and the adventures of learning what made each other tick. It wasn't always perfect and we rode the emotional roller coaster of fighting and making up quite a few times, but in the last couple of years, the thrills were not many, we ran out of things to learn, and the emotional rollercoaster turned into a boring Ferris wheel. We felt like an old married couple, which would have been fine if were old. Or married. But we were neither of the two, and I knew we never should be. We were meant to be each other's first loves, but not our forever-and-always loves.

  Even though I knew breaking up with Bob was the right thing to do, I missed having a boyfriend. Sometimes it was the little things, like standing alone in line every week at H& H for Sunday morning bagels and coffee surrounded by couples with morning-sex hair. Sometimes it was the bigger things like being the fifth wheel at holiday dinners with my family. And then there was the sex. I hadn't had any in over a year. I hadn't even kissed anyone. Except for the drunken kiss last Halloween with a guy dressed up like a doctor. I was a nurse.

  At first I missed sex terribly, but I'd practically forgotten what it felt like at this point. I absently let my hand wander to the front of my sweater and shook my head in disgust that no one had touched my breasts in over a year. Was I considered a born again virgin by now? What if I forgot how to do it? Or what if it hurt again?

  As my stomach turned in agony at my impending re-entrance into the sexual world, I noticed that the guy in front of me at the ATM had a really cute butt. It fit nicely into his dark brown cords.

  I was enjoying the view when it suddenly changed and instead of looking upon his rear end, I was caught staring right at his crotch.

  “All yours,” he said, motioning to the ATM.

  Feeling my face get hot, I looked up, muttered “thanks” and caught a glimpse of his wise-ass grin before I scurried to the machine. As I entered the first two numbers of my pin, I felt the card slip between my fingers and drop to the ground. I would not be adding this incident to my grateful list, I thought as I completed my transaction.

  Finished, I carefully placed the cash in my wallet, spun around to see where my card had landed and found myself looking once again at a pair of brown corduroy pants and Crotch Man with his hand extended towards me, firmly gripping my debit card.

  “I think you dropped this,” he said and I noticed that his eyes matched his pants perfectly.

  Maybe I would add this incident to my grateful list. Gently removing the card from his hand, I joked “Stealing my card, huh?”

  Crinkling his forehead, he said, “I thought I just handed it to you.”

  OK, so my flirting skills needed work. “Joking. Thanks so much. That was nice of you to wait.”

  “I had an ulterior motive,” he said.

  Dinner? “Really and what would that be?”

  “Have a drink with me.”

  Drinks could turn into dinner. “I don't even know your name.”

  “Randall. Now will you have a drink with me?”

  “You don't even know my name,” I said laughing.

  “Jane Alexis Frank.”

  My heart raced as I wondered how he knew my name and what else he knew about me. I zipped up my pocket book, prepared to run.

  “‘Jane,” he said. Then he reached over, touched my shoulder
gently and repeated, “Jane. Your name is on your debit card.”

  No longer fearing for my life, I marveled at how lucky I was. He was handsome and smart. Batting my eyelashes, I smiled and said, “Well then…a drink would be nice.”

  My friends didn't know what they were talking about. New York was full of cute eligible men and I had just snagged one!

  CHAPTER 5

  “Yes, Dad, I've been studying for the LSAT,” I lied. I'd start this weekend. I was having drinks with Randall on Thursday night and so I decided not to bother with the Meetup single's bowling event on Saturday.

  “If you want to get into NYU, you should aim for a score of 170. But, if not, Fordham or Brooklyn Law would be fine and they're not as particular. You graduated college with a 3.5, right?”

  “3.75 in my major. I was thinking Columbia!”

  “That's my girl! Aiming high.”

  I smiled as I pictured sitting next to my dad at a conference table negotiating million dollar deals with one of our Fortune 500 clients. My dad was a partner at a small but prestigious boutique corporate law firm. He wanted me to work for a large global firm first to gain experience, but he'd talked about us working together since I was ten. I just hoped he wouldn't retire before I was ready. He loved being a lawyer. But he also loved golf. I had made Bob teach me how to play, but I kind of sucked. Claire was a natural; I took after my mother and had no athletic ability whatsoever. “Is Mom home?” I asked.

  “She's playing Bunko with the ladies.”

  “Oh.” I wanted to tell her about Randall. She hadn't been thrilled when I broke up with Bob. “He comes from a nice family, he treats you well, blah, blah, blah.” If there was a new guy on the horizon, maybe she'd get over it. “OK, tell her to call me when she has a minute.”

  “Of course. Talk to you later, Pumpkin.”

  “Love you, Dad.”