“I don’t want to be that girl,” my friend Fiona says, “who waits by the phone.”
And suddenly it all becomes clear. “But Fiona,” I say, “you are that girl. I am that girl. My mother is that girl and her mother before her. We’re all waiting by the phone.
“You think there is a cure for waiting by the phone, but there’s not. The phone call doesn’t cure it. Dating the guy who calls doesn’t cure it. Marriage doesn’t fix that ache to be remembered and singled out and loved. Lovesick is just how we are. It’s an illness. Even when you are married, you have times when you wait by the phone.”