REGULAR DANA AND RENOWNED DIRK

Red is my favorite color. A tight, strapless red corset embellished with cream-colored lace pushes my C-cups up to my chin rather uncomfortably. My grandmother's pearls layer around my neck in creamy tiers. Around my waist and cascading down my dancer legs, white tulle falls in layers. I chose to paint my toes a pearl blue. And my hairdresser gave me a complicated updo that resembled a french twist complemented with pink lilies on one side. This hodge-podge of expensive elegance is only intended to give an impression of beauty and grace on my wedding day.







Yet, the most important aspect of my attire lay in the corner by my pedicured feet. I couldn't get myself to reach for them- my beautiful Christian Louboutin pink four-inch heels with red soles. Alone in my dressing room with the door locked from the inside, I can hear my bridesmaid Jessica knocking on my door intently as the organ begins to play.







It's the most anticipated event of my life but I feel unsure like an uneven cross-stitch. I could call it cold feet, but today I call it waste-not want-not feet. I've been sitting here alone for twenty minutes and cannot come up with one good reason to waste a walk down that aisle in my Louboutins toward that man in particular. Not his beach house in Spain, his yacht, his big name parties, his shiny suits, his bathtub with jets, or his heated flooring are making me reach for my shoes.





My fiance, Dirk, is very good-looking. He stands at 6'3", has broad shoulders, a square chin, a winning smile, and hazel eyes against a deep bronze complexion. He is affluent. His father was a stockbroker and his mother is still an intenrational model. Dirk, himself, owns three five-star restaurants in Manhattan plus real estate developments in Miami, LA, and New York City. For these reasons any woman would feel lucky to have him. I may be the exception because I keep wondering why he would choose me out of so many.





As his friend, girlfriend, then fiance, I have witnessed - with chagrin - many fluzzies' hopeful attempts to snag Dirk through some pretty ugly flirtations. Most recently, Dirk and I have been shopping for a home. When our real estate agent met Dirk to show one house, I walked in late to find her bent over in the shortest dress ever made "showing" my fiance the "cabinet space" in the kitchen. At one point, Dirk half-stepped into a closet and she pushed her way in right behind him. I am quite positive her bra-less adventures that day had her pressed up against his back. All she could say as Dirk slid his way out of the closet was, "Wow! It's tighter than I thought in here!" All I could do as I watched from the spacious hallway was laugh. She obviously was not looking for a commission...or maybe she was.





That was just the most recent case. However, the most memorable incident happened when we first became friends. He and I had gone to eat lunch. While I was parked, a girl named Tara slammed her car into the back of mine. Damages cost over three grand which she paid for in entirety. But, it seemed worth it to her because her crazy antics sent Dirk hopping out of the passenger seat to check out the rear and Tara. It turned out he and Crazy Tara already knew each other. They exchanged numbers and talked until the police and a tow truck came. She even gave us a ride to the repair shop and back to campus. Surprisingly, when she dropped me off, Dirk insisted she only make one stop. Once we went inside my dorm lobby, he apologized for her and threw her number away. Two weeks later they were dating.





Ladies loved him and still do. When we were friends he was always loyal- one girlfriend at a time. He is a one woman's man, so duplicity has never been a worry for me. I just don't know why he even started dating me. No one else could figure it out either. I would hear about people saying I'm "not on his level" and "he should be dating a model, not her". One time we had gone out to a bar, a random drunk guy who obviously didn't know who I was started talking with me. He told me rumor had it that Dirk was with "that regular girl" because he wanted a live-in maid.

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"Dana! Dana open up!" My mother is at the door now. Her urgent calls pull me out of my memories.





"Dana! Everyone is lining up now! Please come out and..."

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I met Dirk eight years ago in a business class. He was a senior while I was a sophomore. We studied in the same group. I had seen him around campus and at parties since we shared some of the same friends. Yet, we never really spoke to each other. At times, I would see him looking at me, but his eyeballing was the extent of our relationship before that study group.

Our study group met before each test. None of us would study, and by the time finals came everyone was studying solo except for me and Dirk. After that class, Dirk and I were together all the time: during lunch, on weekends, and even a spring break in Miami with our friends.

After he graduated, Dirk stayed in the city but we drifted apart. He started business school and worked full-time in commercial real estate. Whereas I was occupied with business classes in the daytime and fashion design classes at night. I only saw him a handful of times for the next two years. For those two years, even though I remained extremely busy, I felt an emptiness that I had never experienced before.
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More loud knocking at the door jolted me from my rumination. Okay. One perfectly ligitimate reason to unlock that door is that I have known him forever. Oh, but the anxiety is still creeping up my back!

"Dana!" It's my mom and my sister.

"Give me some space!" I yell back uneasily.

I really need a minute for this one.
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Tara, the maniac desperada driver, had come into Dirk's life right around his graduation. Her behavior was a marvel to me. I had never seen anyone as hungry and THIRSTY for his attention. First, she hit my brand new car. Two days later, she coincidentally showed up at the same movie as Dirk and I, and she sat on the other side of him. I could understand her appeal. She had flawless skin and a wide bubble butt. She had only dated the finest men on campus, so she was like a hallmark of a guy's gangsta. Once they got together, she clung to him like a wet rag. Needless to say, she put a huge dent in my and Dirk's first months of friendship. One night, after a graduation party that all my friends (and Tara) attended, the depletion on her dependency began.

I was sitting outside on the porch minding my own business when Dirk sauntered outside high as a kite. He had a goofy smile plastered across his face with a peppermint stick hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

He shouted, "Hey, it's my girl Dana!"

Proceeding to hug me ever-so-tightly (and rightly), he started rubbing my back intently. His smile remained on his face while he repeated over and over in my ear, it's so good to see you. As he did this, Tara was walking toward the house to join Dirk at the party. She looked fairly angry.

"What are you doing?" She addressed Dirk directly.

"Hey!" He turned to her quickly. But then he turned back to me and hugged me again.

"Dirk!!" She screamed at him then stormed away.

He went behind her but not before turning back to wave at me. While it was the beginning of their end, it was the beginning of nothing new with me and him. But it did get me thinking about how odd it was for him in his lack of inhibition to choose me over her.

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My corset is starting to feel binding. I hear murmuring outside the door. Maybe I should just go and get it over with. My attitude sucks though. I know I love him because his presence and my thoughts of him warm my soul. Still, I need to know that this is right; that I am who he chooses and this is right for him. Otherwise why waste this red tulle and silk , sexy hot ass wedding dress for something that is not forever?

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Four more years passed of us dating random beauties with bad attitudes and irritating ways. He entrepreneured it up, and I was steadily juggling Journalism School and starting a fashion line. We comforted each other over the phone with every break up. He traveled all over the world to study architecture and cuisine. I traveled to museums and different cities for creative inspiration.

By the time I reached my expected quarter-life crisis, I had relaxed into it somewhat with a gig as a fashion editor for a magazine. Also my first line as a creative director was being distributed in a few boutiques in the city and in London. By then Dirk and I had lost touch. Last I had heard, he was in Miami on a beach somewhere.

...to be continued...