Anyway, we were starting to wind things down when two women in their 30s came and sat at the table next to us with their beer. I couldn't help but eavesdrop. Oh my. The one with the short, dominatrix-ish bob talked a mile a minute. She started out by saying that she'd just slept with someone who informed her immediately afterward that he wasn't over his ex-girlfriend and that means that there are now only three guys in town that she hasn't dated and they are... (she actually named names here). Then she said that so-and-so broke his foot so she needs a new riding partner and she's taking a drawing class and there are some really great nude male models in Portland. "There's this one? Who is really little? I mean, like, EVERYTHING about him is really small. Here. Look. I took a picture." At this she pulled out her iPhone and the two of them gushed about how tiny he is.

My God, women! How old are you? Their shallow prater was just... painful. I looked across the table at my dear husband and felt very grateful that I'm not single. I also realized that - if I should ever find myself in that most unfortunate predicament - I can handle the competition. Ugh.