Week In Review

This week... (actually this particular happenstance happened last week - but I've been busy) I realized that I never want a man for whom I have to buy underwear. Kim, Madison and I went shopping last week before my trip to the film festival. On the way home she let her husband know that she'd picked him up some boxers while we were out. I don't know why the thought struck me but I realized I don't want a man I ever have to buy underwear for. I mean, maybe as a present. Maybe. But really, I want a man who knows when he needs underwear. Who listens to what I like (no whitey tighties) and picks them up as needed. I should clarify that Kim bought the contraversial boxers for her husband just to do so - not by any means that the guy can't buy his own - you get the point. I tell Rachel this a few days later and she asks me, "would you do his laundry?" "Laundry is laundry..." I say. It's universal. I don't see the point in separating mine from his. But if I haven't washed any in a while and he wants his blue shirt - he better be skilled on the dials and etiquette of fabric softner. And this got me thinking... I would want a man to be equal parts dependent and independent. There's no reason why I have to go everywhere with him - and if we're going someplace together, be comfortable enough with letting me drive. Humor me when I call afraid of a bug or a frog or a strange sound. Stop what you're doing when I'm crying and need a hug. Go out with your friends - and charm the panties off of mine - so they know how good I have it. Also this week, I realized my love for the city has not been squashed by my discovery of the beauty that is out west. The air today was thick and breeding humidity and it annoyed me. Driving over to Rachel's, I was stuck in construction. I hate construction and have no patience for it. I realize construction can easily be had anywhere in the world. But if I were in Manhattan - I would instruct the cabbie to avoid it at all costs. Here it's a 10 min drive just to cross town (25 mph), a 15 min drive to see friends (I end up calling them on the cell on the way) and a 25 min drive to anywhere else. That is just too much. The word "commute" is beautiful but should involve a plane or train or even an elephant safari. I also realized that I am very much the single friend of my friends. First there was the hot dog lunch with Kim and Barbie and Madison and Dalton. Sitting there watching as conversations were interupted with "hey get down from there," and "hey dalton - what's your right foot's name?"... just made our adulthood a reality. Later in the week, Kim would advise me not to feed her child when I babysit this weekend - when I tried to recall how she makes a bottle and did so - incorrectly. What is it about single people that lead others to think they're going to kill their plants and their fish? Like I'm going to break a kid. I might kill a plant....