Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Me: So much better than train. It’s a date.
“Okay, I’m riding with Zoe,” I tell her. “In other news, I really, really need to have sex.”
She looks up at me. “Like now?”
I shake my head. “Not like now,” I say and then look around, seeing no one who really piques my interest. “I mean soon. Like tonight or tomorrow.”
“So, go out and get it,” Karrie says, drinking a sip of water. “What is with you lately?”
I look at her and lean back in my chair. “I have no idea. I think it’s the changing of the seasons. I spent the weekend in the Hamptons this year.”
“You do that every year,” she points out.
“I know, but this year, I didn’t even suck one dick.” I lift my hands. “Not one blow job. Not even a hand job.” I shake my head. “Every year, you know I go there, and it’s usually a buffet of men.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Yes, I’m aware. Remember when you made a spin card game, and it would tell you what color hair the guy you had to have sex with that night had?”
I smile, thinking back. “Those were some good times. Now all I do is sit on the couch and read.”
“There is nothing wrong with relaxing,” Karrie says.
“I complained my neighbors were loud.” I lean in and hiss whisper, “Me.”
“I mean, you are hitting close to thirty-two,” Karrie says, and I glare.
“Yes, Dirty Thirty. I need to be dirty for my thirties,” I tell her.
“That isn’t how it goes,” she counters, trying not to laugh.
“Why are we best friends again?” I ask her, and she throws her head back and laughs.
“The list is very short. I think number one is I named a kid after you,” Karrie says, and I nod my head. All her kids are named after the most important people in their lives. Their first child is named Cooper Douglas after Matthew’s stepfather and Karrie’s father. The second child is names Frances after Karrie’s mother who passed away, and then obviously, the perfect child is Vivienne. Although, truth be told, she really is the perfect one—great in school and never in trouble. It’s like my namesake is dwindling. Chase is the last one and he has to be the cutest little thing ever.
“That could be it. I do love those kids,” I tell her and grab my own glass of water to take a drink.
“I will remember that when they wake you up on Sunday,” Karrie says. I dread the sound of feet when the girls run down the hall to wake me up. Cooper not so much anymore; he’s too cool for that.
“Anyway, I have to get out of this funk,” I tell her, and for the rest of the meal, we make plans for the weekend. When I hug her goodbye five hours later and start my walk back to my apartment, I do it slowly. New York is the perfect place to people watch.
When I finally get home and walk into the cool apartment, I slip off my heels and make my way to the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I realize I don’t have much in there besides fruit and a couple of prepared meals that I have ordered in.
When I enter my office, my feet sink in the plush white carpet I had put in the room. I turn on the lights just a touch and walk over to the white desk in the middle of the room. Putting down the water bottle next to the vase of pink roses, I turn on the computer. As I wait for the computer to boot up, I sit in the white plush chair and look out the window. The mirrored hutch catches the reflection of the sun, and I look at the picture frames that I placed on the top. Most of them include Karrie, and the picture of us from high school when both of us dressed up for an NSYNC concert is my most treasured one. The other frames are of me with the kids taken in the hospital as soon as they were born. The whole room is my private area, and no one really comes in here except the cleaning lady and Karrie. Grabbing my agenda, I look at my schedule and see that I have an article due for the magazine tomorrow and a blog post to do by next week.
What started off as a pastime has snowballed into my career. After the whole heartbreaking episode, I knew I was never going to fall in love again, so I became a serial dater. It was also at a time when blogging was just coming out into the world, so I started my very own little blog. Not thinking anything of it, I called it Life of a Serial Dater. At the beginning, I would just journal my dates, even if it included sex, and slowly but surely, my following built to over three million people. It was then that the magazine called me and asked if I would like to do a “Dear Serial Dater” article once a month. Readers would mail in their questions or opinions, and I would select a few to post and answer. I was shocked by how big it became, and now I also do an online part to the article every week.