Brenda Janowitz: Based On A True Story

You know that feeling you get when everything seems to be right with the world? When the planets seem to be aligned? One of those days when you're actually running on time, your apartment is (relatively) clean and you haven't gotten into an argument with your mother/best friend/boss/therapist in at least a week? That's exactly how I feel today.

And why not? Last spring, I survived my ex-boyfriend's wedding with my dignity ever-so-slightly intact, and now I'm engaged to a man I love and working at a job that I don't hate. Which, as a lawyer in New York City is really the most you can hope for. Well, okay, so maybe going to my ex-boyfriend's wedding wasn't really as easy as I'm making it sound. But the fact that me and my dignity survived at all is a miracle in itself. You see, mere days before the wedding, my gorgeous Scottish boyfriend, Douglas, broke up with me and announced that he was getting engaged to someone else. Devastating, right? But I didn't panic (much)-I had a plan-I simply took my friend Jack as my date instead.

Okay, okay, it was more like I forced my friend Jack to pretend to be Douglas, thus helping me to keep my dignity ever-so-slightly intact for the whole of Trip's wedding, but it was really just a harmless little lie, you know? Who would ever be the wiser? Certainly not my ex, Trip, and definitely not my more recent ex, Douglas. Wow, I have so many ex-boyfriends that I'm even confusing myself…. And Jack was such a good friend that he really didn't mind one bit. Not even a little.

Anyway, how hard could it be to pretend to be Douglas? So he's obsessively Scottish and was planning to wear a kilt to the wedding. And so what if I had already warned Trip of that in advance (hey, if you were going to your ex's wedding, you'd play up the hunky Scottish boyfriend in a kilt, too). So the little charade took slightly more than a name change. But it couldn't be that difficult for Jack to don a kilt and a fake accent, right?

Turns out it wasn't easy-but Jack made it look easy. We went to Trip's wedding, pulled off the charade, had a great time and then, as an added bonus, fell madly in love. And now we are a bona fide couple, on our way towards marching down the aisle ourselves. See, sometimes the cliché is right-every cloud does have a silver lining.

Which is why this morning, I didn't have a care in world about what I would wear for dinner tonight. Even though it's a dinner with Trip, my ex-boyfriend. And his beautiful movie-star wife, Ava Huang. Yes, that Ava Huang. The perfect Hollywood «It» girl, Ava Huang. Who has an Academy Award nomination. And a royal title.

It's not like I'm jealous or anything.

I mean, what's to be jealous of? My fiancé, Jack, recently made partner at a large law firm in Manhattan. In many ways, I think that's harder to do than to get an Oscar nomination. To get her nomination, all Ava had to do was play an autistic transvestite who was sexually abused as a child and grew up to cure cancer. And everyone knows that when a gorgeous actress does a role where she gets to look ugly she gets an Oscar nod. Whereas Jack had to work twelve to fourteen hour days for nine years before they even considered him for partner. And, I mean, to be born royal, you only have to…well…be born, so working your butt off to make partner for years is certainly more impressive than that.

So there was no reason to give a second thought to what I'd wear to dinner with my ex and his movie-star wife tonight. I mean, I'm engaged now, so what does it really matter what I'm wearing? Soon, I'll be a married woman myself and I'll be much too busy being the normal well-adjusted wife that I am to worry about the little insecurities that I entertained when I was single.

I mean, when you're an engaged woman, does it really matter what you wear for a weeknight after-work dinner? What do you have to prove, really? This is just like any other casual dinner with friends. Even if one is an ex-boyfriend and the other is his Oscar-nominated wife. In fact, I specifically didn't think twice about what I would wear tonight because I'm so above such petty jealousies.

And now, as I sit here at my desk, mere hours away from tonight's dinner, only one thing pops into my mind: WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING? Clearly this morning I was delusional. I'm having dinner with a MOVIE STAR, for the love of God! I must go home immediately and change.

From: «Brooke Miller»

To: «Jack Solomon»

Subject: Re: tonight

running home to change before dinner. want to look cute for you! pick me up at the apartment instead of the office tonight? love you.

Brooke Miller

Sent from my wireless handheld

I race out of my office and hop into a taxi cab. As I give the driver my address, my BlackBerry begins to buzz.

From: «Jack Solomon»

To: «Brooke Miller»

Subject: Re: Re: tonight

Love you, too.

Jack Solomon

Gilson, Hecht and Trattner

425 Park Avenue

11th Floor

New York, New York 10022

*****CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE***** The information contained in this e-mail message is confidential and is intended only for the use of the individual or entity named above. If you are not the intended recipient, we would request you delete this communication without reading it or any attachment, not forward or otherwise distribute it, and kindly advise Gilson, Hecht & Trattner by return email to the sender or a telephone call to 1 (800) GILSON. Thank you in advance.

I can barely contain my smile as the cab lurches uptown and we arrive at my apartment building. I just know that the second Jack picks me up in a cab he'll flash his baby blue eyes at me and say, «I am the luckiest man in the world. Never leave me, Brooke, for without you, I would surely die,» or something as equally heartfelt and romantic.

I rush up to my apartment, turn on my mp3 player and march into the bathroom. That's it-freshening up with a little «getting ready» music will put me in a good mood. The radio begins to blast an old Madonna song from the 80s and I dance around the bathroom, mood lightening. After all, when Madonna tells you to «get up and dance and sing,» you listen.

Throwing my head upside down, I give it a few good shakes. Flipping my hair back and standing upright, I look at my reflection in the mirror. Ever since I cut eight and a half inches off of my signature locks, I've also taken to wearing my hair with more of its natural curl in it. This past summer, I even let it dry naturally on days that I wasn't appearing in court (for those days, I resorted to my old tried-and-true classic bun), and with the Indian Summer we are having this September, I'm still doing the same.

I pull out the bathroom mirrors so that I can see myself in 3-D. I look okay , I tell myself. I look fine . After all, it's just a casual dinner at a local French restaurant with some friends. One of whom is my ex-boyfriend. Who just happens to be married to one of the biggest movie stars in the world-

What if the paparazzi is there? I wouldn't want to embarrass my friends and family by being photographed with frizzy hair. I really am a very considerate girl.

I must go get my hair blown out. Letting my hair dry naturally and frizz ever so slightly is okay for an evening at home with my fiancé who already gave me a ring and asked my father for permission and all that-he's already stuck with me-but it just won't cut it for dinner at Pastis with a real, live movie star.

And anyway, it's really not all that uncommon to get your hair professionally done. I heard once that Marilyn Monroe used to wash and set her hair up to three times a day when she was on a movie set. I mean, if Marilyn Monroe in her heyday had to constantly wash and set her hair, what hope do we normal gals have, anyway?