In this thesis, some old decision strategies are investigated and a new one that furthers our SU-WordTemplate Something Borrowed Something Blue. Two of Emily Giffin's most beloved novels tell one story of love and betrayal, friendship and forgiveness Something BorrowedA hard-working attorney at a large. Darcy is now leaning over the bar, flirting with the twenty-something, aspiring actor/bartender something borrowed. Something Blue by Emily Giffin.
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So here I am on the brink of a new decade, realizing that being alone makes my thirties daunting, and being thirty makes me feel all the more alone. The situation seems all the more dismal because my oldest and best friend has a glamorous PR job and is freshly engaged. Darcy is still the lucky one. Dex and Darcy are an exquisite couple, lean and tall with match-ing dark hair and green eyes.
They are among New York's beautiful people. The well-groomed couple registering for fine china and crystal on the sixth floor at Bloomingdale's. You hate their smugness but can't resist staring at them when you're on the same floor searching for a not-too- expensive gift for the umpteenth wedding you've been invited to without a date. You strain to glimpse her ring, and are instantly sorry you did.
She catches you staring and gives you a disdainful once-over. You wish you hadn't worn your tennis shoes to Bloomingdale's. She is probably think-ing that the footwear may be part of your problem. You download your Waterford vase and get the hell out of there.
Tell them to leave a landing strip or else you can wind up hairless, like a ten-year-old! I'll be right back," Darcy suddenly says. I got my dri-ver's license before she did, could drink legally before she could. Being older, if only by a few months, used to be a good thing. But now our fortunes have reversed. Darcy has an extra summer in her twenties-a perk of being born in the fall.
Not that it matters as much for her: when you're engaged or married, turning thirty just isn't the same thing. As if Darcy would ever be single. She said once in high school, I don't break up, I trade up. Throughout our teenage years, college, and every day of our twenties, she has been attached to someone.
Often she has more than one guy hanging around, hoping. It occurs to me that I could hook up with the bartender. I am totally unencumbered-haven't even been on a date in nearly two months. But it doesn't seem like something one should do at age thirty.
One-night stands are for girls in their twenties. Not that I would know. I have fol-lowed an orderly, Goody Two-shoes path with no deviations. I got straight As in high school, went to college, graduated magna cum laude, took the LSAT, went straight to law school and to a big law firm after that.
No backpacking in Europe, no crazy stories, no unhealthy, lustful relationships. No secrets. No intrigue. And now it seems too late for any of that. Because that stuff would just further delay my goal of finding a husband, settling down, having children and a happy home with grass and a garage and a toaster that toasts four slices at once. So I feel unsettled about my future and somewhat regretful about my past. I tell myself that there will be time to ponder tomorrow. Right now I will have fun.
It is the sort of thing that a disciplined person can simply decide. And I am exceedingly disciplined-the kind of child who did her homework on Friday afternoons right after school, the kind of woman as of tomorrow, I am no longer any part girl who flosses every night and makes her bed every morning.
Darcy returns with the shots but Dex refuses his, so Darcy insists that I do two. Before I know it, the night starts to take on that blurry quality, when you cross over from being buzzed to drunk, losing track of time and the precise order of things.
Apparently Darcy has reached that point even sooner because she is now dancing on the bar. Spinning and gyrat-ing in a little red halter dress and three-inch heels. Par for the course. I have never danced on a bar. I wouldn't know what to do up there besides fall. I shake my head and smile, a polite refusal. We all wait for her next move, which is to swivel her hips in perfect time to the music, bend over slowly, and then whip her body upright again, her long hair spilling every which way.
The limber maneuver reminds me of her perfect imitation of Tawny Kitaen in the Whitesnake video "Here I Go Again," how she used to roll around doing splits on the hood of her father's BMW, to the delight of the pubescent neighborhood boys.
I glance at Dex, who in these moments can never quite decide whether to be amused or annoyed. To say that the man has patience is an understatement. Dex and I have this in common. Without taking their eyes off her. A minute later, Dex whisks her down from the bar, slings her over his shoulder, and deposits her on the floor next to me in one fluid motion. Clearly he has done this before.
Is he, Rachel? Dex grimaces. This isn't fun for anyone but you.
I'll go I'm feeling kind of sick anyway," she says, looking queasy. Don't you worry," she says, now playing the role of brave little sick girl.
I thank her for my party, tell her that it was a total surprise-which is a lie because I knew Darcy would capitalize on my thirtieth to download a new outfit, throw a big bash, and invite as many of her friends as my own. Still, it was nice of her to have the party, and I am glad that she did. She is the kind of friend who always makes things feel special.
She hugs me hard and says she'd do anything for me, and what would she do without me, her maid of honor, the sister she never had. She is gushing, as she always does when she drinks too much. Dex cuts her off. We'll talk to you tomor-row. Oh, to have such a caretaker. To be able to drink with reckless abandon and know that there will be someone to get you home safely. Some time later Dex reappears in the bar.
She thinks she left it here. It's small, silver," he says.
Usually I keep track of them for her, but I went off duty on my birthday. Still, I help Dex search for the purse, finally spotting it under a bar stool. As he turns to leave, Dex's friend Marcus, one of his groomsmen, con-vinces him to stay. Hang out for a minute. Although she is probably thinking that such a thing is not possible.
Gradually my friends peel away, saying their final happy birthdays. Dex and I outlast everyone, even Marcus. It is after two when we decide that it's time to go. The night feels more like midsummer than spring, and the warm air infuses me with sudden hope: this will be the summer I meet MY guy. Dex hails me a cab, but as it pulls over he says, "How about one more bar?
One more drink? It is not an upbeat scene - 7B is dingy and smoke-filled. I like it any-way-it's not sleek and it's not a dive striving to be cool because it's not sleek. Dex points to a booth. I'll be right with you. I watch him say something to a girl at the bar wearing army-green cargo pants and a tank top that says "Fallen Angel. It is one of those songs that seems melancholy and cheerful at the same time. A moment later Dex slides in across from me, pushing a beer my way. Then he smiles, crinkly lines appearing around his eyes.
From the corner of my eye, I see Fallen Angel turn on her bar stool and survey Dex, absorbing his chiseled features, wavy hair, full lips. Darcy complained once that Dex garners more stares and double takes than she does. Yet, unlike his female counterpart, Dex seems not to notice the attention. Fallen Angel now casts her eyes my way, likely wondering what Dex is doing with someone so average.
I hope that she thinks we're a couple. Tonight nobody has to know that I am only a member of the wedding party. Dex and I talk about our jobs and our Hamptons share that begins in another week and a lot of things. But Darcy does not come up and nei-ther does their September wedding. After we finish our beers we move over to the jukebox, fill it with dollar bills, searching for good songs.
I push the code for "Thunder Road" twice because it is my favorite song. I tell him this. Springsteen's at the top of my list, too. Ever seen him in con-cert? Born in the U. But I don't bring this up. Because then he will remember to go home to her and I don't want to be alone in my dwindling moments of twenty--somethingness. Obviously I'd rather be with a boyfriend, but Dex is bet-ter than nothing. The fling turns into an affair, and Rachel is forced to decide which is more important, friendship or true love.
Something Blue [ edit ] The sequel to Something Borrowed, Something Blue tells the story of Darcy Rhone, who thought she had it all figured out: the more beautiful the girl, the more charmed her life. Never mind substance. Never mind playing by the rules. Never mind karma. But Darcy's neat, perfect world turns upside down when her best friend, Rachel White, the good girl, gets together with her ex-fiance, while Darcy finds herself alone and pregnant.
Trying to recover, she flees to her childhood friend Ethan living in London and resorts to her tried-and-true methods for getting what she wants. But as she attempts to recreate her glamorous life on a new continent, Darcy finds that her old ways no longer apply. Baby Proof [ edit ] Claudia Parr and her perfect husband Ben agreed from the beginning of their marriage that children are not for them.
When Ben changes his mind, Claudia is forced to reevaluate her reasons for not wanting children. At the same time, she wonders, is there ever a deal-breaker for true love? There is no question how deep their devotion is, and how naturally they bring out the best in each other. But one fateful afternoon, Ellen runs into her former beau Leo for the first time in eight years. Although Leo brought out the worst in her and left her heartbroken with no explanation, he is also the love she could never quite forget.