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and meeting new people. I was going to make myself one of those romantic, chunky cable-knit sweaters, and a luxurious throw for the end of my bed. I’d knit adorable hats and scarves for all my family and friends. My Christmas shopping bill would be cut in half! Joining the stitch ’n bitch club was definitely a step in the right direction. Now, I just had to find a friend to join me.
    My first thought—well, my only thought—was to invite my divorced friend, Mel. Her social life was even sadder than mine, if that was possible. It was almost a little . . . disturbing. Mel would often say things like “ We’re going to stay in and have a movie night, just the two of us” or “ We spent the weekend at the beach.” The “we” in these statements referred to Mel and her three-year-old golden retriever, Toby. If anyone could benefit from meeting new people and finding a new hobby, she could.
    And it wasn’t like I was going to ask any of my coupled-up girlfriends. They would undoubtedly think my quest for a new hobby was cute. “Good for you,” they’d say. “It’s important to get out and meet new people and explore new interests.” But when I suggested they join me, they’d reply, “Oh, sorry hon, but Thursday night is the night Tom and I give each other pedicures,” or “Dwayne and I can’t miss Survivor ! We have a running bet. The loser has to give the winner oral sex twice a week for a month!” I couldn’t bear it.
    Luckily, I had a coffee date with Mel and Toby on Monday. As was our habit, we picked up our lattes at a nearby coffee shop, and then walked along the waterfront to a small off-leash park on the edge of the harbour. Mel’s and mine was an unlikely friendship. She was ten years my senior with two marriages under her belt, but we had bonded years ago when I interned at the community newspaper where she was the art director. Mel had taken me under her wing, and despite the differences in our age and life experience, we had remained close. I’ll admit that a small part of our friendship might be attributed to convenience. Mel had left the paper several years back. After investing her two divorce settlements in rental property, she now made a comfortable living as a landlady. As a freelance writer, I worked mostly from home, and often, late at night. Because Mel and I had similar schedules—well, no schedules, really—we were both free to socialize during the week. We needed our friendship: Everyone else was at the office.
    “So . . . how are you holding up?” Mel asked as she unclipped Toby’s leash and watched, lovingly, as he scampered free. It was kind of her to ask, but I knew she was just being polite. Two failed marriages and a number of nightmarish boyfriends had destroyed any romantic notions Mel had of love. It was her belief that women should enter into relationships with the expectation of a heart-wrenching end. That way, they would be pleasantly surprised each day when it didn’t happen, and prepared when it ultimately did. She didn’t have a lot of patience for wallowing and healing. Mel was a stoic Taurus.
    “Oh...you know,” I said breezily. “I’m doing okay. It was tough at first . . . moving out and everything...”
    “Never get too comfortable . . .” Mel said, picking up Toby’s ball with a long stick-thing and winging it across the grassy field. “How’s the new roomie?”
    “Ugh.” It came out before I could censor myself.
    Mel looked at me, amused. “Is she that bad?”
    “Oh . . . I’m just being a bitch,” I said, taking a sip of coffee. “She’s fine, really. I’m just not all that comfortable living with her. It feels like her place, you know?”
    “Yeah, it’s tough moving into someone else’s space. You should get your own apartment.”
    “I’d love to, but I can’t afford it.”
    “Well...” Mel began to say something but Toby returned and dropped the ball at her feet. “Oh, you are such a good boy!” she said, grabbing him by