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Chapter 7: Charlotte

Then Charlotte said: “I’ve been dating since I’m fifteen -- I’m exhausted where is he?” And with that she exhaled her last breath of hope and lay her head down on the coffee shop table. I reached over – not to comfort her so much as to pull a couple of strands of her perfect chestnut hair out of the butter. The butter that Miranda was about to spread on her bagel. We all sat there stunned, not knowing quite what to say, there are some notoriously bad things in this world. War, poverty and starvation spring to mind – But Charlotte’s date last night with marketing V. P. Kevin McMartin must now be added to the list of bad things – right behind starvation and above” leather.” And if the category of the list were to further subdivide into VERY bad things, according to Charlotte… Kevin would move to the top. On some occasions, a personal tragedy can trump a world tragedy. And by “some occasions” I mean – on ALL occasions. A bad date tragedy will stay at the top of your list until – well, you have a good date. A good date is found on another list all together. That event is included on the “impossible things you must strive for” list. Also found on that list: world peace and happiness. But Charlotte was not privy to this type of perspective on that Saturday morning. I was. I -- who was not presently dating. I --who was the holder of the perspective. I -- who was now passing the butter to Miranda.

Chapter 14: Charlott`s Perfect Marrage

Tall, dark and Episcopalian. Trey McDougal was Charlotte York’s dream man. Handsome and a doctor -- And getting married in a kilt. Well -- two out of three ain’t bad. It was a perfect sunny day in June – the perfect month to get married in the perfect church in the prefect Upper East Side Neighborhood. What wasn’t prefect? My cab ride to the church from my “not so perfect” Upper East Side neighborhood. Let me just say this: Vera Wang’s perfect bridesmaid dress – wan not deigned to get in and out of a cab. Or else she would have made the skirt with slits. Samantha ran to meet me at the curb. “You’re late….I’ve been dying to talk to you. I had sex with the best man last night.” ”Really?” I said, still straightening my dress –”And was he the best man?” ” No, Samantha responded,”—“But he was pretty damn good. Something about the way those Scots can roll their tongue. He yodeled in my canyon all night.” ”Scotts don’t yodel, Samantha.” She smiled: “Well, this one does.” Miranda approached us – “Hey, what are we talking about?” ” Sex with the best man” I said. Miranda nodded -- Have you got a mint? I have major coffee breath.

Chapter 23 : Charlotte Gets Married Again

Harry Goldenblatt was considered by some to be the best divorce lawyer uptown. In fact, certain women over lunch lovingly referred to him as the Park Avenue Pugilist. Known for his knockout closing punch and huge, huge settlements. From the moment she met him, Charlotte was in good hands. Good sweaty hands. It seemed Harry -- the cold-blooded killer – was not so cold blooded when he was around Charlotte. Her brown eyes and Bambi eyelashes acted as an antidote to his steely cool self.” “He sweats all the time,” Charlotte said as we all sat in the sauna at Bliss Spa. “How much sweat?” asked Samantha.” “Um… more than Miranda is sweating now,” Charlotte responded. We all looked over at Miranda. “That much? How disgusting,” Samantha said.” “Hello – I’m in a sauna!” said Miranda, defending the major glisten shimmering all over her poached pink skin. Charlotte continued describing Harry to us as we sat at lunch an hour and a half later. “It is disgusting. All the time. And I have a confession to make.” I leaned in—my mouth filled with soba noodles.” What is it?” Charlotte took a deep breath, than said: ”When he’s around me –I sweat too.”