Boozy Brunch Sundays with bottomless mimosas are one of the upsides of being single and childless. It's also a great way to take your mind off the possibility that your boss knows you let her husband poke you in the patootie.
Brie sits with her neighbor Shauna, Shauna's friend Krystal, and Krystal's friend Eliza at a table on the patio at Sonoma Wine Garden in Santa Monica, starting things off right with a Bloody Mary with truffle foam. The women sit snapping pics of each other holding champagne flutes aloft and posting them on Instagram, but Brie refuses all attempts to chronicle her mealtime. "Over it," she tells them. "I offed myself last night on social media."
"Ugh, yeah what's up with that?" Shauna says. "Your new profile pic is fugly."
Brie laps a cloud of truffle foam with her tongue. "It's the new real me."
A choir singing Hallelujah! announces an incoming text message and Brie looks at her phone and smiles. "It's working, actually. I've been texting back and forth with this supercutie all morning." She calls up his Match.com profile and shows him off to the gals.
"Oh. My. God," Shauna scowls, her liquid eyeliner buckling. "You're talking to SantaMonicaSam? He is such a fox. That picture of him standing near his surfboard with his wetsuit down at his waist?" She makes a sexual grunt. "So adorable. He's got those groin muscle things. I've been working on him for months and nothing—you slut."
Brie wags her tongue at Shauna as she replies to SantaMonicaSam's text asking if she'd be up for a drink later. She writes: Nah, not today. Hanging with friends. Maybe in a few weeks. "I've got a new motto, Ladies. It's called Be yourself. Don't be psycho."
Krystal laughs as she reapplies her lip gloss. "Yeah, but what if you're actually psycho?"
Brie looks at Krystal. "You're not psycho."
"I was talking about Shauna."
"Shut up your face," Shauna says. "I am not. Oh my God, speaking of Match. Look who just emailed me." She shows her phone to Krystal. "That himbo from the gym."
Krystal polishes off her mimosa. "That dude is everywhere."
Eliza takes an uncommon break from Tinder to look up. "Let me see," she says, squinting at the screen. "Oh yeah, MarcoYOLO. I swiped right on him once and he emailed me a picture of his dick."
"Gross," Krystal says, flagging down the waiter. "What did it look like?"
Eliza shrugs. "A dick."
Brie looks at Eliza. "What'd you write back?"
Eliza's thumb moves right, moves left, moves right, moves right. "We had sex in the yoga mat room at the gym and now we pretend we don't know each other. He was on the bike right behind me in spin class last week. I can't stand the smell of Cool Water anymore."
Brie's phone chimes Hallelujah! SantaMonicaSam says: Go out with me. Come on, be a sport.
Brie writes back: All right, fine. But not today. I'm feeling cranky.
The waiter arrives to take their order.
"What's more Paleo," Shauna asks him, "the Garden Frittata or the Salmon Benedict?"
Brie rolls her eyes.
"Uhh," the young waiter sputters. "I'd have to go check with the kitchen."
Eliza's thumb freezes mid-swipe. "I'd say it's a toss up. The salmon has more omegas but there's the whole English muffin thing to deal with."
Shauna looks at the waiter. "Is the salmon farmed? I saw on The Doctors that the farmed stuff doesn't have the oil that's good for your skin. It needs to be wild. Is it wild?"
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Brie Baggio thinks she's ready... for marriage, kids, the whole shebang. She's pushing forty, and even though she's the Senior Anti-Aging Ambassador at Los Angeles's hottest med spa, Botox can't paralyze that nagging feeling that it's now or never...