Read Keep Calm and Carry a Big Drink for Free Online Page A

beading. He also sports matching maroon silk kurta pajamas, dark red beaded pointy slippers, and the red-and-gold turban.
    Scott does a spin. “So, can I rock a sherwani or what?”
    Seema continues to grin at him, almost blushing. “Wow … you look amazing.”
    “I do, don’t I?” Scott says happily, then leans in for a kiss.
    She smiles even more brightly as she kisses him back.
    All is well in the kingdom once again.
    And I, despite myself, feel a twinge of jealousy.
    My friend is totally and completely, butterflies still in her stomach, madly in love. And she gets to marry the man she aches for. After thirty-two years of waiting, fretting, bad dating, bad hair, bad outfits, and pretending to care about football scores, she finally gets her happy ending.
    And as much as I’m mad at myself for feeling this way, I’m a little saddened by that.
    Stop it Mel, I think to myself. You’re letting the lack of momentum in your own life get the best of you. People’s lives are like fields—there are times of rapid growth, and times when the soil is fallow. There is nothing wrong with taking a little time to figure out what’s next in your life. If people were constantly moving to the next phase of their lives as quickly as possible, we’d all be grandparents by thirty-six, and dead by forty. There’s nothing wrong with a little boredom.
    The two are giving each other bedroom eyes, so I decide to give them a little privacy. “I’m gonna go unload the car.”
    Scott offers to help, but I insist it’s one of my maid-of-honor duties, and I shall go it alone.
    By the time I get back, they’re locked in their room.
    And I decide it’s time to finally drink some champagne.

 
    F IVE
    Who’s the love of your life?
    Who’s the guy who just popped into your head?
    Who’s the man you would spend the rest of your life with, if it were totally under your control?
    I stare at the yellow legal pad I just wrote on.
    It’s ten in the evening and, boy, am I having a “glass half-empty” kind of night. Actually, I’m having more of a “glass completely shattered because I threw it against the wall” kind of night.
    But I’m trying to snap myself out of it. I’m trying to figure out what I really want in my life, so that I can go after it, full speed ahead.
    I look at my nightstand, where my money-tree charm sits, mocking me.
    Damn it, I hate that charm.
    I refill a champagne flute from IKEA that Seema received today from a bottle of champagne left over from the shower.
    It’s pink. It’s yummy. It’s expensive. And it’s not making me feel any better.
    I begin writing on the legal pad again.
    If you can’t face your job another day, what do you want to do instead?
    What makes you happy? It can be anything—biking near a beach in the Maldives, taking black-and-white photos in Chicago, throwing a great dinner party here in Hollywood. What is it? And why aren’t you doing it?
    Many women my age can answer that question with “Because I have children to take care of. And a husband, a dog, a job that pays the bills, an aging parent. I have responsibilities.” But I can’t say that. I don’t have any major responsibilities. So why don’t I get off my butt and start doing something to make my life better?… Anything!
    I toss the notepad onto my bed dejectedly, walk across my bedroom, open my top desk drawer, and rifle through the debris of old receipts and Post-its for a candy bar. I usually have a candy bar hidden in here somewhere. I find a Twix. A “fun-size” Twix, but a Twix nonetheless.
    Normally candy makes me very happy. I have a thing about candy; it’s one reason I used to regularly run five miles a day: so I can always eat candy.
    But tonight I am more relieved to see it than happy. The truth is, I’m never really “happy” anymore. Sometimes I’m “content,” I guess, but even that feeling is fleeting lately.
    Fleeting contentment. I suppose if one were honest with oneself, one might say