If I do say so myself, my friends and I

Dazzle and sparkle in our sexy skirts,

Fancy hairdos, and high platform heels

That make my feet ache like hell

As we trudge up this dang steep hill.

In freezing late-February slush.

What the heck am I thinking?

Though nobody would expect it,

Tonight I've made a special effort.

It might sound petty or foolish or

Possibly even vain, but I want Rick

To covet everything we've lost.

Maybe it'll make him see reason.

I'm pretty sure he still loves me,

Or cares for me on some level,

But damn, if he isn't stubborn!

It's my job to wake him from his

Stupor and show him the truth:

He can relax some strict Catholic rules

Without giving up on his faith entirely.

As soon as we enter the pub with its

Minimalist décor, I catch Rick with

The preppy Republican Club guys,

Clones of handsome models from fancy

Labels, wearing Oxford shirts and chinos.

To me, Rick stands above the others,

His top button secure with a coat and tie,

Warding off what he calls 'loose women',

Who desire him for a night of casual fun

But think twice because he looks uptight.

To be fair, he kinda is...

With a perpetual bee up his butt.

But I love him anyway.

I always have.

Rick wasn't always this way.

My heart thuds when we approach them.

My palms sweat and my breath quickens,

My skin burns bright even though I

Haven't drunk a single sip of alcohol. Yet.

Time to fix that monstrous blunder.

"Hiya, boys," says Tessa, sultry as ever,

Draping a cardigan over her shoulder

From her index finger. They stare at us

Aghast, whispering among themselves

Like we're the tastiest steak on the menu.

Except Rick.

Holding his head high, he casts a quick

Glance at my friends and here it comes:

That derisive smirk he always gives girls

Who act immodest and--in his words--

Scream, "Make way for the Revolution!"

Yeah, yeah. I get it, Mister Dumblebrain.

Anything left of Thatcher is communist.

Though, to be fair, Rick makes a point.

They kinda are The Socialist Brigade,

Like many students who study Sociology,

Political Science, or Women's Studies.

As a libertarian, I'm the outlier. Not them.

My appletini comes in a fancy glass,

Whose stem zigzags left then right.

I cast a glance at Rick while he listens to

One of the Rich Boys™ and laughs like

He's suffering the company of fools.

As though my gaze burns him,

Rick turns. He catches me staring

For he's a head taller than the others.

Little vixen that I am, I lift my glass,

Drain it all, and gently lick my lips.

My eyes never leave his.

When the cords in his neck tighten,

Rick gently tugs at his collar.

Now it's my turn to smirk

Before I turn back to my girls.

We've spent the last couple of hours

Discussing current events and analyzing

Every hint given by the guys in this joint.

"How in God's name did you put up

With all of Rick's bullshit?" asks Tessa.

She parts lips painted in the same shade

As her form-fitting red winter dress

To pull an olive daintily off a toothpick.

Tessa thinks she's such a prole,

But she wears Saks and drinks martinis.

Erica grins with anticipation. "Yeah, Tal.

Are you gonna tell us what his deal is

Now that you guys are no longer dating?"

I bite my lower lip. "I can't, guys.

It isn't my story to tell."

Tessa sighs and crosses her arms.

"You've got to be the first woman in

Human history who protects her ex."

"It's no biggie." I shrug. "Rick had it tough

Growing up, and my family helped him.

We spent four hours a day together for

Most of our lives, through thick and thin,

And a breakup can't break that bond."

"Isn't that weird?" asks Katie. "Wouldn't

That kinda make him like a brother?"

I chuckle. "No, but we were close friends

Long before he proposed at eighteen.

Rick always said we would marry, even

Proposed to me with a daisy chain crown

At the age of five while we played House."

"Rick?" Tessa threw up her hands.

"Oak-up-his-ass Richard Marino?

No way, I refuse to believe it."

"He used to be super sweet as a kid."

I shrug. "Life hardened his heart."

Katie raises her glass of champagne.

"Ignis aurum probat, miseria fortes viros,

Wise words of the philosopher Seneca:

Fire is the test of gold; adversity is the

Test of men. If he fails, his fault."

Says the socialist.

Make up your mind.

Are you a leftie or not?

"So, whad'ya say?" asked Tessa, as though

I'd revealed the world's greatest secrets.

"When you guys were five, I mean?"

"I rugby tackled him."

All my girls burst into laughter,

Drawing the attention of the Rich Guys™

Despite The Pub being crammed.

"Oh, God!" exclaims Tessa. "Classic Tala!

No wonder why poor Rick is traumatized

He gives her a romantic gesture, and

She takes it as a declaration of war."

My smile fades.

Oh, no. Rick is traumatized all right,

But for a very different reason.

Katie notices my sudden reaction

And clears her throat.

"Well, I don't know about y'all,

But I wanna dance."

When Tessa waves me to the dancefloor,

I politely smile and shake my head.

She shrugs and fast dances with Erica,

Mouthing the lyrics to the Bond song

Made by Madonna, "Die Another Day".

Soon everyone is grinding on the floor

To bassy club versions of Destiny's Child.

When I turn toward Richard Marino,

He sits alone, staring into his glass

As though it holds all the answers.

It'll be a virgin cocktail. As always.

Not like me. I'm being

A bad girl tonight.

This might be my second--

Wait, no...I think maybe--

Okay, it's definitely my third

Appletini. But who's counting?

When I rise, I wobble slightly

And realize that I might have

Forgotten to eat dinner, which

Means this damn stuff has gone

Straight to my fuzzy, wuzzy head.

Whoo, baby! Here I come!

The angel on my right whispers,

Don't do it. Impaired judgment.

But a badass, devilish version of me

In a leather jacket on my left says:

Grab him by his little Oxford collar

And kiss him like you did that night

You took control three years ago.

Keep your cool, Tala, says the angel

On my right. Keep your cool.