How to Be Single (7 page)

I understood exactly what he meant.

“Are you in love with your wife?” I asked, deciding to be nosy.

“Yes, absolutely.”

A surprising pang of disappointment hit my chest.

“And we try not to become bored of each other. Because we are in love. And because of that, it's a very interesting life. For instance, the minute you called me an evil genius, I wanted to spend more time with you. Because you seemed funny and interesting and you are beautiful.”

I started to sweat a little.

“That doesn't mean I'm not in love with my wife, or that I don't want to be married to her. It just means that I'm a man and I am alive.”

I tried to make a joke. “Listen, if you think that kind of talk is going to get me into that jungle gym upstairs you better think again.”

Thomas laughed. “No, no, Julie. Tonight, I am just enjoying your company. Entirely.” He looked at me, shyly. I could almost swear I saw him blush.

“You know, I think the jet lag is kicking in a little,” I blurted out, awkwardly. Thomas nodded.

“Of course, this is your first night in Paris. You must be quite tired.”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

Thomas pulled up in front of Steve's apartment and turned off the engine. I suddenly got very nervous, not knowing what to expect next from this French fellow. “So, thank you for the ride and the champagne and the sex, I mean you know, the eye-opening…you know…” I was stammering a little.

Thomas smiled at me, amused at my awkwardness.

“I believe you will be going to the opera on Tuesday and then to the gala? Yes?”

“What? Oh yes, Steve mentioned it. He's conducting.”

“Fantastic. I will be there with my wife. I will see you then.”

And with that he got out of the car and opened my door for me. Besides the whole showing-me-people-having-a-three-way, he was the perfect gentleman. He kissed me on both cheeks and sent me on my way.

Back in the States

They all got dressed up for the funeral. It was a happy occasion after all. Serena's old self of ego and desire and attachment to this material world was about to die, and Georgia, Alice, and Ruby agreed to all go to the funeral to celebrate. It was ninety minutes out of the city, at an ashram near New Paltz, New York, and Georgia had offered to drive. Ruby was late to meet them at the garage, because she is always late, which immediately irritated both Alice and Georgia, because they are never late and they didn't want to be driving up to New Paltz to watch Serena become a swami in the first place. But they had promised me, and though they weren't about to take a vow of celibacy at the altar of Siva, they did worship at the altar of friendship and keeping promises.

At first, there was an uncomfortable silence in the car. It was nine in the morning, they were all tired and cranky, and none had any idea what they were about to get themselves into. However, if you know anything about women, you know that something about the confinement and intimacy of a car will eventually get even cranky ladies gabbing.

Alice soon began laying out for Georgia her belief system for being single. She verbally drew for Georgia all the maps and diagrams that spelled out the basic tenets of her dating dogma: You have to get out there, you have to get out there, you have to get out there. As they drove up 87, Alice taught Georgia about Nerve.com and Match.com, about not spending too much time emailing these guys, but instead making a date for drinks or coffee, never dinner. She taught Georgia about immediately deleting the guys who use sexual innuendo in the first couple of emails and not feeling bad if she doesn't want to respond to guys she feels are too old, short, or unattractive for her.

As Georgia exited the Thruway, and started driving along tree-lined roads and past farms and cows and goats, Alice told her about rock climbing at Chelsea Piers, about kayaking and trapezing on the West Side Highway. She explained to her about the hottest clubs and bars and what nights you should go where.

Georgia, already on a steady IV of panic and mania, really didn't need any more pumping up. Though it was only an hour and a half in an Acura driving upstate, it could well have been forty-eight hours trapped in a Motel 6 with a bunch of Scientologists depriving you of sleep, food, and phone calls. By the time they pulled up in front of the Jayananda Meditation Center, Georgia was fully brainwashed on the Gospel according to Alice and she was hooked.

In the backseat, Ruby slept the whole way. She woke up just as Alice pulled in to the gravel driveway.

“Does anyone know what we're actually going to be seeing here?” Ruby asked as they drove past the sign for the center.

“I have no idea,” Georgia said.

“I just hope we don't have to do any crazy chanting,” Alice added.

They got out of the car and smoothed out their rumpled outfits. Georgia and Ruby were both wearing dresses with stockings and boots, and Alice had opted for a more professional-looking blazer and pants set. As they followed the smattering of people walking down a grassy hill on a little stone path, they saw that they were clearly overdressed. The other guests were wearing flowing shirts and skirts, the men had various displays of facial hair, and the women were mostly sporting unshaven legs. There were a few Indian men in orange robes and sandals. As Georgia, Alice, and Ruby got to the bottom of the hill, they saw where the ceremony was to take place. A few yards away there was an open-air stone temple. It was circular, with marble floors and stone pillars and pictures of various Hindu figures on the walls. People were taking off their shoes and sandals outside the temple. Incense wafted in the air.

“This is really weird,” Georgia whispered.

They wrestled their footwear off and walked in. They immediately took on an air of solemnity befitting the occasion. In the middle of the temple was a stone pit, with a small fire quietly burning in it. The “congregation” all began sitting on the floor, cross-legged. These three ladies were not dressed for the lotus position, but they gamely arranged their skirts and pants in some fashion that let them put their pretty asses on the cold rock floor.

An elderly Indian man in orange robes who seemed to be the head swami started reading from a book in Sanskrit. There were two other male swamis flanking him, an older Italian-looking swami and a really hot fortysomething swami. Next to him was an extremely overweight female swami. They stood silently as the head Indian swami kept reading. Eventually, the initiates were brought out. There were five of them: three men and two women. And one of those women was Serena.

Alice, Ruby, and Georgia let out a collective gasp when they saw her. She had shaved off all her hair. All, that is, except for a little belt of hair trailing down her back. Her beautiful blond hair. Gone. Only a skinny little bird of a thing remained. Serena. In an orange sari. When Serena had called Alice the day before to give her directions, she explained to Alice what she was doing. She believed her calling was to spend the rest of her life meditating and being of service, all in the hopes of achieving some kind of spiritual enlightenment. Serena believed she was done with this material world, and was ready to give it all up. Alice hadn't really understood what Serena was talking about, but now, seeing her in the orange robe and no hair, Alice realized Serena was not kidding around. The initiates stood quietly as the swami finished reading a section of the book. Then the hot swami began to speak. He seemed to be the translator, the temple PR person designated to explain to everyone what was going on.

“I want to welcome everyone here today to this funeral. This is the day these students become sannyasins. They will take vows of poverty, of celibacy, of detachment from family, from friends, from all the pleasures in this physical world. This fire represents the funeral pyre…”

“He is really hot,” Georgia whispered. “What kind of accent do you think that is?”

“I'm not sure,” Alice whispered back. “Australian?” Ruby glared at them. They closed their mouths.

“…where their old selves will be burned away, to make way for their new self as a sannyasin.”

And with that, the old Indian swami picked up some scissors that were lying on the ground and as each initiate kneeled before him, he cut off the last remaining strands of their hair and threw it in the fire. After that was done, the five almost-swamis sat down cross-legged on the floor. One by one, the overweight lady swami placed three cones of incense on each of their heads; Serena was the last. Georgia, Alice, and Ruby watched this, perplexed. A girl they had only met on a few occasions, who last time they saw her she was getting her stomach pumped, was now bald and balancing incense on her head. All six of their eyes widened with dismay as they watched the Indian swami light the cones, one by one. The hot swami explained:

“As the cones of incense burn down to their scalps, these five new sannyasins will meditate on their new path of abstinence; the burning cones may form a scar on their heads, creating a permanent symbol of their new commitment to self-denial.”

Alice gasped. Ruby raised her eyebrows, and Georgia just rolled her eyes. Serena looked out into the crowd and smiled. She seemed to be almost glowing. Something about the look in her eyes took their collective breath away. Peace. Calm.

Imagine that.

“I invite you to all meditate with our sannyasins for a few moments.”

All eyes in the temple closed. But Georgia looked around as everyone began breathing in and out slowly. She started contemplating the idea of the burning off of the self. If Serena could cast off her old self, so could she. She didn't have to be mad at Dale. She didn't have to be humiliated that she recently broke the promise she made to 230 of her closest friends and relatives and broke up with the man she was supposed to love till death do they part. She could let go of the feeling that she was a failure in her marriage, and therefore at life. She could let go of the agony of knowing that someone with whom she had shared intimacies and embarrassments and joy and sex and the birth of two children had found someone else he'd rather be with.

As she sat there, with a tiny rip tearing up the side of her skirt, her inner voice said,
I can let it all go. I don't have to be a bitter, divorced lady. I can do it any way I want. And I want to date young, hot guys.

Alice meanwhile felt the pangs of her crossed legs cramping up, but she couldn't help but notice how nice it was just to sit still for a moment. Peace. Calm. To breathe. To stop. She closed her eyes.

Yes,
her inner voice said.
I've passed my knowledge on to Georgia. She'll make a valiant and loyal student. It's time for me to stop. I'm fucking exhausted.
Alice kept breathing in and out, in and out, slowly, until her inner voice finally said,
It's time for me to marry the next man I meet.

In Ruby's mind's eye, much to her surprise, she was holding a baby in her arms, surrounded by all her friends and family in a halo of love and acceptance. Her eyes popped open in shock at the sudden image of her motherhood.

“While the sannyasins meditate, feel free to join us in the main house for some curry and chapatis.”

After they drove back to the West Village, where Georgia parked her car, Ruby, Georgia, and Alice said their polite good-byes.

In a contemplative mood, Ruby decided to walk to a park and get some fresh air. But she didn't walk to just any park. Bleecker Street Playground is a mere thousand square feet, but it is chock full o' children—running, climbing, digging, screaming, giggling, fighting, feuding children. There were big brightly colored pails and trucks and wheelie things they can sit on and motor with their little children feet. There were mothers and nannies, all shining with the glow of West Village chic. There were a few fathers, all handsome with their salt-and-pepper hair and well-gymed biceps. Ruby stood looking in at it all, her hands on the bars of the fence that protected those inside from molesters and kidnappers. She walked to the entrance, a big metal gate with a big sign that said “Adults not admitted without a child.” She ignored this and, trying to feign the look of a beautiful-mother-now-looking-for-her-adorable-child-and-beloved-nanny, walked right in.

She scanned the park. She wasn't quite sure what she was looking for, but she knew this was the place where she was going to find it. She sat down next to two mothers; white, slim, really good highlights in their hair. She was gathering information, soaking it all in: the kids, the moms, the nannies, everything. Suddenly, there was an eruption in the center of the park, near the monkey bars. A four-year-old devil-girl, with long, ringleted brown hair, screamed and beat on a poor defenseless little boy, throwing him down on the concrete and then wailing at the top of her lungs. Her face was red and her eyes were almost rolling in the back of her head, as if she were the injured party. A young woman ran over to the little girl and hugged her. Another woman raced over and picked up the little boy, who was now also wailing. The monster's mother scolded her demon child, but it clearly was not penetrating. This bad seed was already in the Land of Tantrum, screaming and crying and hitting her mother. When the two mothers sitting next to Ruby saw the look of horror on Ruby's face, they just shook their heads, and almost in unison, said two words that would explain everything: “Single mother.”