The six-week, whirlwind book tour became seven–I just touched down in the city. But before I washed my unmentionables and cleared out the mailbox, I had dinner at Bar Milano with my two closest, funniest friends. (Pattern of my female friendships: they’re all funny, ballsy stand-up comics.)

The girls hadn’t seen the ring, they hadn’t heard the proposal story…and they certainly didn’t know that I finally felt secure in the city.

“The ring!!! How’d he do it?? We want to hear everything.”

The first martini glasses were empty and they wanted details. You see, no matter how sarcastic or cut throat a woman might be at her day job, she most certainly appreciates diamonds… and a love story. Accordingly, Lang and Katie devoured all proposal/wedding/ “Have your first child before 30!” talk like they did our veal agnolotti with apricot reduction, our goose liver crostini, our air-cured soppressatta, our roasted brussel sprouts with pancetta… (I’ll stop here while I still theoretically fit into my wedding dress).

So I covered the necessary bits—the “Modern Bride”/ “Martha Stewart Weddings” elements. But finally, over dessert, I stopped talking about what every bride-to-be should talk about and told them that, for the first time in 6 ½ years in New York City, I was really truly happy—and SECURE.

Mind you, I’m no bottomless pit of timidity and insecurity; Ellen Barkin is a personal hero. My mamma raised me in such a manner that, at age 22, I hit the New York City sidewalks, job interviews, temp agencies and first date boites with boundless (bordering on the blind and the naïve) confidence.

But I’ve never felt at peace—or secure—in this adult life of mine. Consider the facts: I rent my apartment (I don’t own it), I work as a freelancer (no benefits, no bonuses, no built-in healthcare) and, until this year, no clear direction for my love life.

Sure, at night when I climbed under the cool covers and turned off the lights, I envisioned gorgeous, blonde children playing in the sugar white sand, by the emerald green Gulf with Jamie. But there were no definites.  

Now, there is a ring—and two toothbrushes. You don’t know how much this independent, head-strong girl loves staring at those two brushes resting by the sink. Life seems a little easier, warmer. Amazing what two, 99 cent Duane Reade toothbrushes can do for a girl’s well being… 

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 18th, 2008 at 8:25 am and is filed under General, Family. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.