The Hopefuls Read Online Free Page A

all the time, or it was the thought of waking up with a pounding headache and purple-crusted lips. Whatever it was, I begged my roommates to put on clothes, telling them we wouldn’t have to go far, that fresh air would do us good. And somehow, they all agreed.
    It was loud in the bar, and the four of us stayed close so that we could hear ourselves talk. Colleen and I were sitting on stools and Julie and Courtney were standing behind us. None of us were particularly energetic or cheerful, but I still considered the night a success for getting out of the apartment. I was taking a sip of my beer when Colleen leaned toward me and said, “Dogpants is totally checking you out.”
    “Who?” I asked. I looked over my shoulder.
    “Dogpants. To your right.” She sounded hopeful, like this situation might make the night more interesting. “He’s not awful,” she continued. “I mean, besides those pants.”
    I looked blatantly at Matt then, who was holding a beer and listening to one of his friends. He was smiling in a way that made me think he knew we were talking about him. He was tall, with wavy brown hair and a handsome face, and he was wearing dark green corduroy pants with small yellow Labs embroidered all over them.
    “Jesus,” I said. “They might as well be whales.” (I still don’t know what I meant by this, but Colleen quoted me in the toast she gave at our wedding and everyone laughed.)
    Matt finally came up to talk to me, a couple of beers later, and Colleen looked right at him and said, “Hey Dogpants, it took you long enough.” She slid off her stool and gestured to it with her hands. “Would you like a seat?”
    He blushed a little bit then, and I noticed how friendly his eyes were, how they crinkled at the edges when he smiled, and said, “Thanks, I’d love to sit. These dogs are barking.”
    —
    Matt was three years older than we were, a lawyer, and he lived alone, all of which made him seem like an adult. He took me out on real dates, to dinners and museums and shows. And also, he was just so nice. He was generous to all of my friends—buying them rounds of drinks, helping to prop up Courtney after she drank too much, buying us late night pizza and bringing it up to our apartment. We were used to college boys who thought it was the height of romance to offer you a can of beer from their refrigerators. If Matt had known what he was being compared to, he might have realized he didn’t have to try so hard to impress us.
    The night I met him, he was out with his friends from college. “We were all at Harvard together,” he told me as he introduced us. “You went to Harvard?” I asked, hoping I’d misheard. All I thought was, I am talking to a guy with dogs on his pants who went to Harvard and there is no way I’m ever going to see him again. But I was wrong.
    From the beginning, my friends were invested in my relationship with Matt—overly invested, actually. They weighed in on it just as much as I did. When I got ready to go out with him, they all crowded in my room, suggesting I change my shirt or put on lip gloss.
    “I’m in love with your boyfriend,” Colleen used to say, and everyone would agree. Before Matt, I’d dated a string of guys who always prompted my friends to say, “He doesn’t deserve you.” I was the sweet and thoughtful one in relationships, and now it was all turned around. “I think you’re going to marry Dogpants,” Colleen said one day. “I mean, you will if you’re smart.” Her words stuck with me, like a warning not to mess this up.
    —
    Matt proposed in Central Park a year and a half after we met. We’d just decided to move in together, which felt like the most adult decision I’d ever made, and I’d spent hours talking about it with the girls, squealing at the idea of having to go to the bathroom with Matt in the apartment and wondering what it would be like to share a bed every single night. When he pulled out a ring, I can honestly say that I was