Slumber-free Party

In light of the recent break-up of her pre-engagement, Stella threw herself a pajama soiree at her apartment across-the-street from a fire department in Park Slope. I arrived wine in tow--inappropriate since Stella, though not a recovering alcoholic, does attend AA meetings--ready to cheer up the fallen school teacher.

There was no picking up to do--in true bad girl form, she was prancing around wildy in her matching pink camisole and jamies to girly tunes with an entourage of Cranium playing fiends. We escalated from board games to a game of truth or dare, which was far less interesting in the single sex company--the adorable gay couple aside--since the youngest of us is a decade past 15.

Geoff and Jeff immediately captured my heart with their artsy hair and perfect skin. One was scruffy, the other smooth. One was chatty, the other shy. One was sour, the other sweet--it was duality at its finest. I wished and wished they could be my gay boyfriends, but in Stella's hour of need I was above petty stealth and it wasn't a recruiting event, it was a cheer-up session.

In lieu of sleeping over I joined Karen and Jo for the commute back to Manhattan a little after 2am. I felt so old sitting in that subway car on the F-train...the orange seeping into my skin and burning off layers of youth.

A 36-year old version of my mom's fiancee hit on me, handing me his card and confirming that middle age approaching white men sure fetishize 20something Indian women. He prodded me into conversation against my headphone wearing will but politeness prevailed and the boyfriend excuse was resurrected. The clincher was, "Boyfriend, just a boyfriend. Until you're married there's always hope."

Mental note: V has a girlfriend, not a wife. So hope I won't but pray I will...