Punk Love

“What would that look like?” I rested my head on my hand, blinking at him tiredly.

Alex sat back, mulling this over.

“If I had to design your next boyfriend—which, I don’t want to, because even though I’m over you, there’s a fucking limit—I would say, someone who is so grounded he is nailed to planet Earth. Good job. Good family. Practical degree. A T-ball coach type. Not one rebellious bone in his body. Someone who would love you quietly, and just a little more than he should, so he can deal with your brand of crazy. You know what I mean? Someone you could keep on his toes for eternity. Someone like that. Oh, and for fuck’s sake.” He threw his head back, laughing. “Jadie showed me a picture of Patrick. Would you stop already with the big blond guys? We look like carbon copies of each other.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “Sure. Someone new. Different. The complete opposite of me.”

The next month, I met my husband.

My forever.

He had dark hair, and reading glasses, and a practical degree, and a video game addiction.

He looked like my safe haven.

So that’s where I went.

Where Are They Now?

Jadie: Married (not to Tom) with one child. She lives a very charmed life in a coastal town, and from social media pictures, it seems like she has an enormous amount of dogs.

Dory: Married to a banker with two children. Very happy and living in London.

Pauly: Still one of my best friends. She is a speech therapist and married (not to her hunky volleyball ex-boyfriend, but a woman named Brandi). Official owner of the hottest Pilates body I have ever seen. So infuriating.

Alex: Lives in Sweden. Married. Not sure about kids. Has no social media whatsoever. I doubt he uses the internet very much. Last time we spoke, he seemed really happy.

Me: Happy. Whole. Free.