To the Last One Standing

To the Last One Standing,

I remember speaking one night after yet another dating saga ended. We sat on the boardwalk near the lake, our feet dangling over the moving waters.

There used to be five of us hanging out at the lake. Then one got engaged, married. There were four of us left, then three. Then there were two.

“It wasn’t this one, but there’s someone out there waiting for you,” you told me, “Hopefully it will actually work out soon.”

“For you as well,” I added.

You and I were in this together. The late-night calls about “Oh-my-goodness-can-you-believe-what-happened,” and the understanding smirk when yet another kind woman says, “Maybe you’d be married if you smiled more.”