Average every day sane psycho

So my friend René said to me recently, in her infinite wisdom, that it was time to rid myself of Daniel Cleaver and find Mark Darcy. (If the preceding allusion escapes you, you need to hop in the car and visit your local library or Blockbuster.) I also recently watched the last episode of Sex in the City, where Big followed Carrie all the way to Paris to win her back. Two examples of charmingly neurotic women who, after much comedic drama, end up living happily ever after. As lovely as these scenarios are to watch on TV or read about on the couch, I do have one teeny, tiny, little gripe about their stories....

THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN IN THE REAL WORLD.

In the real world, beautiful, intelligent, successful men do no socialize, let alone fall in love with, quirky, self-deprecating, financially-struggling, overly-analytical, insecure yet tragically funny women with really big, difficult hair. Especially when they do not look like runway models. (Okay, Sarah Jessica Parker looks amazing for being 40. And Reneé Zellweger is normally quite stunning; but as Bridget Jones she is decidedly squishy.)

My sister's graduation party was Sunday. My guidance counselor from high school was there, and she asked me how various friends from high school were doing. And as I was recounting, I realized--I am one of the last still in school, and definitely one of the last to be picked for the couples baseball game. I began to imagine this very same conversation a few years from now: "So, any men in your life?" "Nope." Silence, coupled with that look: raised eyebrows but squinty eyes, that look that is half pity, half "Why the hell are you still single? What could possibly be so wrong with you??" This law school thing is a great alibi for still being single. But I've only got a year left on that ticket. After I take the bar, the next step is to meet a man, get married in a big, poofy dress and start popping out little Jessicas (that last thought alone is enough to make me start hitting myself over the head with my keyboard while strangling myself with the mouse). Maybe I will take a cue from Adelaide in Guys and Dolls--I'll move away, where no one can find me, and invent the most amazing life for myself. It will be a real-life version of Mad Libs.