The waitress brought us food, little plates with cheese and meat, big enough to share. We ordered white wine. I was slathering soft cheese on bread and getting ready to have a third slice when I looked up to see Lauren staring at my hands.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I’m eating.”

“I’m talking about the way you’re eating. You’re eating funny. You’re right-handed, but you’re doing everything with your left hand. What are you doing?”

“Oh, don’t worry.” I shrugged. “I read in a magazine that to eat less you should reverse the way you hold your silverware. So if you’re right-handed, you hold your fork in your left hand. It’s so awkward to eat that you naturally eat less. It’s been proven in a study,” I assured her, putting the piece of bread slathered with cheese into my mouth with my left hand.

“Dani, that is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Stop it.”

“No way. I think it’s working. Soon I’ll have such a perfect ass that Grant will want me instead of five lesbians.”

Lauren ran her hands over her face and was quiet for a moment, then asked, “How did you know what his password was?”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Guys are so easy to figure out. They keep it simple. Having his password be his name is practically inviting me to read his e-mail.”

“You’re going to have to stop. I bet he will still call you.”

“I don’t want him to call me now. I know what he’s into, and it’s not me.”

I tried to focus on my food, spearing an olive with my fork. I didn’t do anything wrong—every girl I knew had read her boyfriend’s e-mail at least once.

“You’re ruining this. You’re ruining something that was fun by being psycho,” Lauren said.

“I’m not a psycho. I’m just checking. I’m investigating. I had a hunch, I looked into it, and I was right—something was up. Guys are always fucking around. Having this info just levels the playing field.”

“Hello, Dani. Would you like to have a private moment alone with your Crazy?” Lauren stared at me like I was a lunatic. “This isn’t your TV show. He’s not a criminal who needs to be apprehended in fifty-two minutes of a television drama.”

I pouted. “I’m just disappointed, because I really thought we would be good together—he was such a ‘good-on-paper’ guy.”

“You sound like you were already picking out your wedding dress.” Lauren drained her wineglass. “I guess you really are over Dave.”