“Jim’s so great,” he gushed. “I only wish you’d meet a guy, too. Straight, of course.”

He babbled on about how kind/caring/handsome/loving/sexy/talented Jim was. I’d been down this road with him before, just like I’d been with Kandi, and I knew that as sure as Prozac would wolf down her next meal, there’d be heartbreak ahead. When it comes to picking boyfriends, apparently men are just as clueless as women. Which is why I for one am perfectly happy with a cat as my significant other.

Finally, Lance wound down about the Joys of Jim, and we hung up. I headed to the kitchen to get some kitty treats for Prozac and some Ben & Jerry’s for me. Then I checked my e-mail. Nothing except an offer to have hot cybersex with a woman named Brandi. And some letters from my parents. I decided to read my parents’ letters in the morning. I didn’t want anything to bring me down off my three-thousand-dollar-a-week high.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my mom and dad. But frankly, they’re—how can I put this gently?—they’re stark raving bonkers. To look at them, you’d think they’re just an average sixtysomething couple living in a retirement community in Tampa, Florida. But the truth is their lives are straight out of a soap opera. Somehow they always seem to be in the middle of a crisis, a crisis they expect me to solve. I’ve read about people like my parents, people who don’t feel alive unless they’re swirling in a maelstrom of drama.

Daddy is the main culprit. This is a guy who can take a perfectly ordinary day and turn it into an episode of Survivor. As my mom often says, “Daddy doesn’t have ulcers. He’s just a carrier.”

Mom’s only major lapse into nuttihood (aside from marrying Daddy) is her fanatic devotion to the Home Shopping Club. The woman has enough cubic zirconia to light up Times Square.

But enough about my parents. I’m sure you’ve got parents of your own to worry about. The point is, I’d had a good day and I wanted to keep it that way. I wasn’t in the mood for a domestic crisis, or one of Daddy’s bad e-mail jokes. I’d definitely save their letters for tomorrow.

Instead, I settled into bed with Ben, Jerry, and Prozac. The four of us happily watched an old Doris Day movie. At the beginning of the movie, Doris is a sensible woman, happy to be alone and independent. Not moping around, dreaming of having a man in her life. Why couldn’t Kandi and Lance be more like me and Doris? But then, of course, Doris falls head over heels in love with Rock Hudson and defects to the Lance/Kandi camp.

I thought about Lance and Kandi, and their quest for Mr. Right.

“What do you think?” I said, scooping Prozac up into my arms. “Are they the smart ones for trying? Am I a fool for holing myself up in the apartment with you? Should I give it one more chance and go out with that guy from Kandi’s show?”