Tag Archives: people who read The Economist

The New Divorcee: Movie vs. Reality


8:00 AM– Wake up, wash face with mineral water and apricot scrub exfoliant. Moisturize entire body.
8:15 AM– Eat three egg whites and half of a grapefruit with Splenda.
8:45 AM– Walk into work, manage to look professional and effortlessly beautiful.
9:00 AM- 5:00 PM– Get compliments and praise throughout the day. Make witty jokes about your ex to the delight of everyone around you. Leave work, but when entering elevator, trip embarrassingly. What a day!
5:15 PM- Get home, stare out window. Catch yourself wistfully thinking about ex, but snap out of it and do some pilates to busy yourself.
6:00 PM– Tall, handsome, rich man (who you met whence tripping in elevator) calls with last-minute dinner invite. Scramble to get ready. Good thing you already did your pilates!
7:30 PM– Enjoy luxurious dinner complete with amuse-bouche, appetizers, cocktails and desserts. Hold hands and smooch unbelievably attractive man.
9:30 PM— Because you’re a classy lady, accept a goodnight kiss at the door, but explain that you need to take things slow. Man understands.
10:30 PM– Crawl into bed and catch up on your reading: French Vogue, The Economist, The New York Times.
11:00 PM– Take a quick glance at the remaining framed wedding photo on your nightstand. Brief wistful moment. Turn picture over, and fall into a peaceful sleep.


8:46 AM– Wake up, realize you drunkenly hit snooze for 45 minutes and are late for work already.
8:48 AM— Look in mirror. Shudder. Decide to just wear a scarf over your head like a cancer patient instead of trying to tame whatever has become of your hair. Realize that your breath smells distinctly of gin, but you don’t have time to brush your teeth AND eat, so you’ll just settle for breath that smells like a sausage egg mcmuffin, which you will pick up on your way to work. You are already wearing your work clothes from yesterday, so no need to change. Three cheers for time-saving!
9:18— Walk into work late, looking and smelling sort of homeless. Endure evil looks from your co-workers as they whisper behind your back, angry at your tardiness and your lack of professionalism.
9:18— 5:00 PM— Accomplish almost nothing. Take various involuntary “naps” at your desk only to be awoken by your best friend texting you to ask if you’ve seen her driver’s license because she thinks she either left it at that last bar you were at last night, or, she might have sold it to a teenager for cash to buy more drinks after she realized she lost her credit card.
5:15 PM— Get home. Log onto match.com to see if anyone has expressed interest. Notice three “winks” from men older than your father who aren’t even rich. Log onto your secret Facebook account to stalk your ex-husband. Scowl at his profile picture because he’s smiling. The nerve.
6:00 PM– Meet your friend at that one bar with the really long happy hour and half price appetizers.
6:00 PM– 2ish AM— Drink. Eat nachos. Drink. Accept drinks from a man who introduced himself by licking your ear. Eventually tell man that you need him to take his tongue out of your ear. Man does not understand.
3:00 AM–Arrive home in a taxi because your friend remembered your address. Lay down on kitchen floor and make mental note NOT to fall asleep here because you really need to set an alarm for work.

Stupid movie breakfast.

Stupid movie breakfast.

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