The Perfect Life

I recently heard from an old college friend of mine, whom I'll call Pam Perfect. I used to be soooo jealous of Pam because, seriously, everything about her life was, well, perfect. Even her hair. Of all the girls on campus, she had the best Farrah hair.

Shortly after graduation, Pam married Paul Perfect, an attorney from a socially prominent family in Chicago. I was a bridesmaid in her lavish, but perfectly tasteful, wedding. My date opted to stay in the parking lot during the ceremony, where he amused himself by  occasionally revving the engine of his motorcyle and tattoing my misspelled name into his arm, using an old needle he had found in the alley.

Pam and Paul built a perfect life, with the perfect house and 2 perfect children. Everything was honky-dory until the day Paul came home and told Pam that he had fallen in love with someone else. Oh, and that, unless she could buy him out, he was putting the house up for sale. Then he packed his bags and went to shack up with his beloved, a certain Glenda Golddiggerskankho.

Well. Pam was truly devastated. She had  no career, no money, no relatives to help, and she had the overwhelming gut feeling that all of their sociiety-minded friends would choose sides. And not her's. 

After a few horrible, sleepless nights, Pam decided there was only one way out. The BIG out.  She figured she could slit her wrists in one of her perfect porceline bath tubs. With any luck, the bath would be so icky that it would render the house unsellable. Pam wasn't sure if her kitchen had a knife that could do the job, as she hadn't actually seen the kitchen in decades. She'd have to go shopping for the perfect end-it-all knife.

The next  morning, Pam drives her perfect BMW to Water Tower Place, an upscale mall on Michigan Avenue. With a determined stride, Pam made her way to the Macy's cutlery department. 

"I'd like to buy a knife," Pam said to the young lady behind the counter, "A really, really sharp one." 

"Of course," the salesgirl replied. "Is there a pattern?" 

Pam Perfect just stared at the young lady. In an unbelievable shocking moment  Pam saw, for perhaps the first time, her life with perfect clarity. 

"Yes," Pam blubbered. "It's been this way since the honeymoon. The late nights when I couldn't reach him, the weekend "work" seminars to the Carribbean, the hang-up calls.....he's been a louse since day one." Pam cried with no inhibition, for all of the  wasted hours and hours of boredom with her perfect friends, for all of the years lost to charade, for all of the love she hadn't received.

Then it hit her. The salesgirl was inquiring as to whether there was a particular silverware pattern that interested Pam. Pam wanted  nothing more than to run out of the mall, but her feet seemed glued to the floor. So she stood at the Macy's cutlery counter and sobbed uncontrollably while the sales girl offered tissues and petted Pam's arm. 

Long story short--Pam decided to let Paul go, let the house go, and take her money and create a new life. Pam moved to San Diego, bought a bungalow near the beach and now works as a yoga instructor. Her live-in love, Dimitri, is 25 years younger than her and more in love than any man I've ever met. 

Paul, meanwhile, married Glenda, who wiped him out financially before running off with the pool boy. She didn't leave Paul empty-handed, however.....Paul was given the gift that keeps on giving, even with the prescription medication. 

Don't you just love a perfect ending?