living the dream

Ha, I just realized from the title that you might think I am living the American Dream - of home ownership, that is. But indeed, thank God, I am (so far) not a home owner (or home ower, as my friend Tony used to call himself). Erik's bid was countered and he chose not to play ball. Still, I feel like the house is a looming possibility. It makes me buy cookies and ciders. But whatever. Today's post is not about my financial fears.

Instead, today it is about my dearest niece, miss Zoë herself. As the oldest - sister, niece, soul - Zoë is doomed to suffer all sorts of experiences first. This week's uncharted territory is the terrible break up. Drat that no good six pack ab toting cutie of a rich boy she's been dating for two years. After basking in the glory of her wonderfulness for so long, he finally broke down and has returned to being the serial dating man-whore he was when she found him.

I know. This is bad. This is pints of ice cream in the fridge, crying unconsolably all night bad. It's even had me sobbing, once while on the eliptical machine at the gym thanks to an ill-timed teen-angsty tune on my ipod Shuffle. And I'm not even premenstrual. Weird, huh?

Anyway, Zoë is fortunate to have my best friend as her mother. Jules has kept her daughter from making all the mistakes a broken heart wants to make - crawling back, begging for reconciliation - and instead has made sure she heads off to school each daying looking like the hottie that she is. We are also extra fortunate that Sadie, Zoë's little sister, was admitted to the same private high school so we can get her firsthand perspective on the break up. According to Sadie, her sister has been totally winning the split - she's been looking calm and collected and he's been looking down and dejected.

Until yesterday. Yesterday, after having a good cry in the dark room (a great place to cry, by the way - I used to cry in the dark room at work all too regularly...), Zoë was called off to an assembly. There she discovered her man-whore ex-boyfriend was parading around his newest catch, her former friend (of course). Zoë didn't miss a beat. She walked up to them, slapped him (hard) across the face, and told him to fuck himself. Twice. And then she asked him never to talk to her again.

I know. Awesome, right?

As the day wore on, Zoë's true friend made sure that the rest of the (very small) school knew her side of the story. Walking the halls Zoë found herself receiving high fives and style points. At lunch time, when the man-whore and his new catch tried to join the regular group in the regular place, Zoë got up and left. So did about 30 or 40 other people.

Kinda warms your heart, doesn't it?