Away we go

1-Monaco

VOTE TARGET: 10 votes

"It was the worst. He picked his nose in front of me and the booger remained on the side of his nostril. Yuckkk.", I tell my best friend.

She crinkle her nose in disgust. "And, he is a doctor? "

"Yep."

She sigh quietly. "It's not okay."

"Okay? Okay is an understatement, Hope. I'm emotionally, mentally, motherfuckingly tired of picking all the wrong men." I bury my face in my hands.

Hope shake my hands. A little too violently. "Oh. My. God. Nina. Look! Oh my God its CARLOS MONTES."

Words fumbled leaving her mouth. It should be because we were here since evening. Her mother, Victoria, warned us not to indulge too much. But her warnings went in deaf ears.

It is almost midnight and the alcohol, even though was taken in moderation through the period of time, is now making us both light in the head.

I look at Hope plainly. "Who?"

The way she look at me, I might have to fear for my safety.

"Carlos Montes. The reigning world champion of F1." She tilts her head again looking somewhere over me. "I knew it would pay off. Hanging out here all the time."

Her screeches make the hair on the back of my neck stand. I try to look at the direction she's pointing at but can't make out the guy.

The club was impossibly crowded and even if it wasn't, I would not have been able to spot him because A- I have no idea who Carlos is and how he looks. And B- I have zero interest in anything car related.

Hope knows this well since our time in New Havens together so she doesn't bother pressing further. She went to Albertus Magnus for psychology and I was there in Yale for International relations. We lived off campus, together and eight years later we know each other in and out. We were inseparable then and we are inseparable now.

I can see from across the table that she is absolutely smitten. Her chest, heavily rising and falling as she struggles to keep her eye on this guy, is a testament.

"Thank you God. I knew it that if I continue to come in expensive bars I would bump into at least one celebrity but Montes, wow! That's very generous." She continues her prayers oblivious of my confused look. "Shit! I decided to get married and he shows up. Why God! WHY!"

Deciding to let her be, I jump out of the chair. "Bathroom." I inform her when she give me a questioning look.

I flinch as I see the bathroom line. Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the stucco wall behind me.

Graduating from an Ivy League and a successful career in journalism at twenty five was no guarantee for an equally satisfying love life. Mine is a mess. My choices in men is as questionable as Brexit. It is like Salvador Dali's paintings. From afar you will be all praises but up close you will wonder what was he thinking.

And here I am at a night club in Monte Carlo celebrating my friends wedding that is due in few months.

I am happy that she found a man that she is ready to settle down with. Jealousy is out of question because she is the closest I have come to having a family. She, her family and my foster family back in Boston are everything to me. It's just I couldn't help but feel disappointed in myself for not being able to have that in my life.

Should I settle for the booger-doctor? Is there an Olympics for overthinking?

A fellow drunk girl, next to me, continues to bang her head on the wall, over and over. I stare at her a moment longer, wondering if she is overthinking as well. When I place my palm between her head and the wall, she give me a toothy grin.