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And I’m finished with this open-minded stuff. I’m going back to my mental checklist. That way I can eliminate the losers before I waste an entire evening with them and end up on crutches.”
    “It wasn’t a total waste. You got to see the Jewish doctor again.”
    Leave it to Kaitlyn to find the silver lining. “For five seconds in the hallway, with my hair in a pony tail, and no make-up.”
    “Yes, but he remembered you.”
    “As the girl who almost puked on him.”
    She leaned over to where I was sprawled on the carpet with an ice-pack on my ankle and patted the top of my head. “No, Jules, as the cute lawyer with the great smile whose phone number he wanted, but stupidly forgot to get.”
    Only Kaitlyn would think that, and I loved her for it.

Chapter 9
    Elmo Never Lies

    It was an uneventful Friday night. But after my previous Friday night with Plane Guy, I was happy with uneventful. The swelling on my ankle had gone down so I was off the crutches, and the plum on my forehead had shrunk and faded to a green grape. I’d met Kaitlyn for dinner at Cheesecake Factory earlier in the evening and she swore that with makeup on and my hair combed forward, the bruise wasn’t even noticeable.
    By nine o’clock I was lying on the couch in my boxer shorts and T-shirt, searching for something good on TV. After I confirmed that there was nothing worth watching on all two-hundred-fifty-six channels, I started flipping through magazines. Satin jeans were out, six-inch heels were in, and men really didn’t want to date women over thirty-five, at least according to Modern Woman .
    Only three years left, just one if I followed Simone’s timetable. How did this happen? Thirty-two and I was practically an old maid. But wasn’t being an old maid still better than dating—or God forbid being married to—someone like Plane Guy? I knew what my mother would say, but I wanted a second opinion.
    I retrieved Tickle-Me-Elmo from his resting spot at the far end of the couch and stared into his big, black eyes. I’d purchased him last December as a Hanukah present for my neice, Ashley, but she already had one, so my sister Deborah mailed him back to me. I was supposed to exchange him for a Cookie Monster, but he looked so cute with that orange nose and those googly eyes, that I just couldn’t do it. Now Cookie Monster lives with Ashley and Elmo lives with me.
    I propped Elmo on a throw pillow and asked him what I should do, then I squeezed his right foot.
    “Tickle Elmo again,” he said.
    “Yes, but should I keep dating? I mean, what’s the point if they’re all going to be as bad as Plane Guy?” Then I squeezed Elmo’s tummy.
    “Elmo’s not ticklish there.”
    Hmmm. “So you’re telling me they won’t all be as bad as Plane Guy?” I squeezed his left foot.
    “Elmo’s a little ticklish there.”
    A good sign. “Then you honestly believe my soul mate is out there, I’m not destined to spend the rest of my life lying on this couch watching television with you?” I squeezed Elmo’s right underarm.
    “Elmo loves being tickled.”
    Uh-oh. That could be interpreted either way. I decided to give Elmo one last chance before I moved on to the Magic 8 Ball. “So what you’re really saying is, I got off to a bad start with Plane Guy, but I just have to keep trying until I find The One?” I squeezed Elmo’s left underarm and held my breath.
    “That’s it, that’s it, that tickled Elmo the most,” he cried and vibrated right off the couch.
    I had my answer. Everyone knows Elmo never lies.

Chapter 10
    It’s Not a Party Without Rosenthal

    The next night I tore myself away from Elmo and the Cary Grant marathon on AMC, donned my black pant suit, and headed to Rosenthal’s house for the firm’s first-ever client party. Mrs. Rosenthal met me at the door of their sprawling, six-bedroom, Mediterranean home on L.A.’s pricey Westside, and introduced herself. We’d met several times before, but she never remembered. I