our house doesn't have a fireplace but if it did, last night's pow-wow would have been easily classified as romantic. greta, linds, linds and i had a discussion-turned-forum. there were no parents there to answer our burning question: where do ex-boyfriends come from?

we all sat around as if we were a part of a book club, about to give two thumbs down to our last male playmate.

"stop ruining my LIFE!" schoen said. we all laughed, some uncomfortably, because she's funny but also because she ain't half wrong.

as i envisioned it, there are hooks that sort of dangle loosely from our hearts as our boyfriend-gone-bad exits the scene like a fish confused by its reflection. all it takes is one strand, shred or rag left behind and we're linked to him for...... hopefully not life. god, i hope not life. but everytime they enter and leave again, the hook of heart pulls, and it hurts.

think about it. it's not easy to give up on someone you really want to be with. how can one sentence (the previous) raise about ten questions?

"do we really want to go out and date right now when we know how 99% of them end up?"

it makes almost perfect sense: you're surrounded by three other girly-intellects and you have all the strength in the world. i'll offer up my advice, but i'm just as much a hypocrite (in a puffy, white dress?) than the next girl. i don't talk much about the progress (or really, the regress) of my own unless inquired about. this is mainly because i know that (1) it looks better when i write it down and (2) if i hear myself say it aloud, i do turtle-like things minus a shell.

so if we aren't a book club.... then what? a broken-heart club (too emo)... bobbing for boys club.... behavin' badly club... bandaged club? girls, remember what Jake said. and remember what Ms. Bradshaw said: you'll never get through it without your girlfriends.....