chris works a lot of nights, so i spend a lot of evenings at home alone. this is good because i can watch as many 'sex and the city' episodes as i want to without being made fun of, but it's bad because, you know, chris isn't with me. sometimes i find myself talking aloud to myself when i'm alone, and this both scares and amuses me. "oh, jackie," i'll say as i flip through a magazine, "you have such lovely hands." then i'll thank myself and say, "please. you're much too much." i'll ask myself what i want to do next, i'll mutter quietly about a mustard stain on my socks ("how the hell did i get mustard there?") and while making dinner, i might pretend that i'm the star of my own cooking show, "microwaving for one."

last night, i did not want to microwave for one, so i thought i would order some food from the nearby family feedbag chain. i said to myself, i said, "you don't want to order just one meal, you'll look like you live alone with an apartment full of cats, like you're some batty old gal that talks to herself." so i had to peruse the online menu and order two meals. it started getting pricey when i considered to pretend like i was throwing a party for me, my husband, and our five children, so i did just stop at that one extra meal. i went to pick up my food and they made me sit at the bar to wait for my order to be completed. i made sure to check my watch frequently and huff with impatience as i fiddled with my engagement ring.

there was a lone guy at the bar, nursing a beer and watching a tv show involving men in ties discussing other men in ties. he was not afraid to sit there by himself. but me? i would have died. it's one thing to sit somewhere and have coffee alone, but dinner? drinks? i haven't yet matured to that level.

at home, i put one entree in the refrigerator and ate my other entree in front of my own tv. "no men in ties here," i remarked to myself. "just four women in new york badmouthing toxic bachelors."