Stacy Vs. SEAL

I nod my head and smile. “Chase and I are looking at apartments tomorrow,” I tell her. “He

wants to look at Brooklyn Heights or Park Slope.”

“Oh God,” Becca winces. “So not only do you have a man that’s Mr. Brooklyn for work, but now you gotta live there too?”

Oh my God.

“Brooklyn is awesome, babe,” I tell Becca.

“Carla Roman, you are a total Manhattan slut. How are you going to do Park Slope?” Becca asks me. “That’s too much of a settling down for you.”

“Well,” I tell Becca. “We’re actually looking for an apartment that we can settle down in, babe.”

Becca bugs her eyes out at me. “Settle down?” she asks me. “Like you mean, for good?”

At the back of brain, I bet Becca didn’t think Chase and I would last. I mean, he’s a cowboy. He goes places. On a horse.

But he’s actually so much more than that. So kind. So gentle. So…big.

“We love each other,” I say, and smile. “We want to spend our lives together.”

Becca stares at me for a moment. “I mean, I guess I could visit you in Brooklyn, if cabs take me or whatever.”

I smile and get an overwhelming desire to hug my friend.

“We can go to Barcade and have coffee beers and play Pac Man,” I tell Becca. “And we can go to Carrol Gardens and Williamsburg and have pizza at…”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just gonna have lots of sex for like so long and then you guys are gonna spit out some rugrats and push strollers around Park Slope,” Becca says to me.

“But Chase will still have a cowboy hat,” I say with a smile.

Becca smiles at me. “He will. That’s for sure.”

We stare at each other for a long moment. I know what we’re thinking. Chase has become a large part of my life. I still love Becca. I still love my friends. We will still hang out. But a large part of my life has changed.

Forever.

It’s nothing to be sad over. It’s the way life goes.

I’ve met my lobster. My hero. My best friend. My lover.

And I couldn’t be happier.

;)

Lisa Vs. Outlaw

Billionaires, bosses, professors, princes…whatevs, ya know? I need a real man.

Good luck finding an outlaw in the Hamptons.

Just because someone has some whips and chains doesn’t make me go all gooey.

I mean, I could just go buy that at the dollar store.

Nope. I need rugged. I need alpha. I need an outlaw.

Not some white collar criminal either. Insider stock trading does not make you an outlaw. Neither does stealing cable. Or tearing the tags off pillows.