"I can compromise as well as the next person," I said testily, "but I don't like settling. Is that what you think I should do? Just grab the next good old guy who comes along, because -- because -- well, why? Age?"

"You have to admit you're not a spring chicken anymore," Harriet said loudly.

"Oh, thank you." The waiter spied me doing a pantomime version of drinking a beer, mouthing "Bud," and finally sauntered over with two bottles. "Why are women the worst ageists?" I asked her. Taking a gulp of my beer, I glared at her. "Do you say this to your guy friends who are 32?"

"Tick tock, tick tock. That's all I'm saying. I think there's going to come a time where you just can't handle this breakup stuff anymore, that it just is going to start to get a little tiresome to go through the let's-be-friends discussion all over again. It happens to women in their early 30s, this tiredness. Men have a little more leeway -- they get tired in their late 30s." She delicately wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"So what you're telling me is that all couples in their 30s who get together on a permanent level are primarily driven by exhaustion?"

"I'm telling you the truth," she said, with the wisdom of a 38-year-old. "It's something I've observed. When you get older, you find that they aren't all lined up saying, 'Pick me! Pick me!' The good ones are all taken."

I started to laugh. "Another sexist comment! When will women ever stop saying that?" Harriet cocked her head and looked at a point above my head. "And besides, whatever makes you think they're all lined up now? They've never been lined up. I don't care if you're Cindy Crawford -- there's never an abundance of men saying, 'Pick me, pick me.'"

"If you think it's bad now, it only gets worse." She looked at me darkly. "And I'm saying if you liked this guy and you used to have great sex with him ..."

"Oh, we're still having sex," I interrupted. A pregnant pause descended. "Just because we broke up doesn't mean we're not sleeping together." I wiped the bottle across my forehead. "Many friends can have sex and have it not ruin the relationship."

Harriet rolled her eyes. "For how long? A week? Until one of you throws a fit in a frenzy of possessiveness and the other one walks? Give me a break." Harriet swigged her beer and grimaced. "Listening to your little fantasy world is enough to drive me to drink this horrible Budweiser."

I finished my beer and pried her hands off of her bottle. "Well, if you don't mind, I think I'll just hold out for Prince Charming, or until I get that 30something tiredness, whichever comes first." Harriet sighed and looked at the menu. "Until then, I think I'm happy with my little Disneyland consisting of sex with a friend whenever we feel the urge strike us." I smiled brightly across the table at her. "Silly ol' me!"
SALON | Nov. 26, 1997

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