Something Blue

Love and friendship. They are what make us who we are, and what can change us, if we let them.

You can only control your own actions. Not other people’s reactions.

The person who wants out of the relationship always gets her way.

Sure, we were friends who exchanged soulful glances, friends who slept in a bed filled with sexual tension, friends who found any excuse to touch, but I worried that we'd never take that perilous leap of faith toward becoming a real couple, a permanent team.

Anxiety was not an emotion I could ever remember feeling when I went out in New York, and I wondered why tonight felt so different. Maybe it was because I no longer had a boyfriend or fiance. I suddenly recognized that there was safety in having someone, as well as a lack of pressure to shine. Ironically, this had cultivated a certain free-spiritedness that had, in turn, allowed me to be the life of the party and hoard the affection of additional men....But that had all changed. I didn't have a boyfriend, a perfect figure, or alcohol-induced outrageousness to fall back on.

Blurring the line between friendship and attraction was a surefire to lose a friend.

Evident in every small act of kindness, it was love as a verb. Love that made me feel more complete than I had ever felt in my glamorous, Jimmy Choo filled past.

This time, I whispered that I loved him too. Then, I silently listed all the reason: I loved him for his gentleness. I loved him for being an amazing catch yet still vulnerable enough to be insecure. But most of all, I loved him for loving me.

Which always raises the interesting question of whether redheads pursue other redheads in a narcissistic way, or simply, because they have no other choice, as nonredheads aren't interested.

It's amazing to me how few guys know their friends' birthdays.

Life was good then, I though, as I started to cry. Not so much because I missed the good times, although I did. It was more that I knew I was turning into one of those girls who, upon looking at high school photos, feels wistful.

Get a load of this one... I heard that she actually thought paparazzi was the last name of one particular Italian photographer. Apparently she said something like, 'Who is this Paparazzi guy and why didn't they arrest him years ago after he killed Princess Diana?

Although too much time has gone by to miss her, I feel regret that I didn't maintain our friendship. Even if we no longer have much in common, we would have always had the past, which, in some ways, is just as important as the present or future.

You can only control your own actions. Not other people's reactions.

As of that moment, we had a secret, and having a secret—even a little one—creates a bond between two people.

The surprise element of her betrayal was what burned me the most. The fact that I never saw it coming.

...evident in every small act of kindness. It was love as a verb, as Rachel used to say. Love that made me more patient, more loyal, and stronger. Love that made me feel more complete than I had ever felt in my glamorous, Jimmy Choo-filled past.

I don't know what a carbuncle is, but it doesn't sound pleasant. I wish one upon Rachel's nose.

Vatican Palace…because in Venturi’s words, ‘Less is

After all, there is nothing like a mother telling you that you're making a bad decision to convince you that what you are doing is the absolute best course of action.

That is one of the problems with getting older. There is a distinct lag time between how you see others and how you view yourself. I still thought of myself as looking twenty-four.

back at Rachel, thinking that she got it just right. Love and friendship. They are what make us who we are, and what can change us, if we let them.

Clutter is knowing all of the things that you absorb through your fashion magazines. Clutter is knowing which celebrities broke up with whom and why.

that hard work, honesty, and integrity always paid off in the end, while skating by on your looks was somehow an offense. And like that day playing psychiatrist, I occasionally worried that she was right.

But at the time, I honestly didn't think I was hurting anyone, not even myself. I didn't think much at all, in fact. Yes, I was gorgeous and lucky in love, but I truly believed that I was also a decent person who deserved her good fortune.

reckless abandon and know that there will be someone

grocery lists. That was back when I thought my

But that's the thing about the sucker punch; the sucker element hurts worse than the punch.