When I’ve got time to kill in a bar or restaurant, I like looking around and trying to guess all the stories that are unfolding at the tables around me. The first dates and business dinners are easy enough to spot, as are the family get-togethers, the birthdays, and the anniversaries. The more intriguing stories are usually the quieter pairs, the ones sharing a drink in silence, barely making eye contact or eating mechanically and exchanging what appear to be desultory remarks about the side dishes and the promptness of the service. Are they old friends, happy to spend time in one another’s company, no longer bearing the burden of providing constant entertainment and fun? A long-established couple, communicating in the code of multi-year relationships, in which a seemingly throwaway comment about the crispness of the green beans carries with it layers upon layers of meaning about sacrifices, bad choices, and disappointments past? Perhaps they are former lovers, getting together for a final drink, that necessary gesture of our modern times towards closure, moving on, and remaining “friends.” I have never been very good at identifying those, probably because until Maurice I had not had a grown-up relationship, and so all post-breakup communication had been conducted drunk and at top volume and was usually followed by some extremely regrettable behavior. So, seeing these couples, I wondered what it was they said to each other so quietly and calmly. It seems to me that there are four options:

1. The truth (version 1) — I still think about you, I still miss you. What could we have done differently? I wish things didn’t turn out this way. I hope it’s for the best.

2. Untruth (version 1) — I’m terrific! Work is great! My life is fantastic; I see my friends all the time and have tons of fun. I love dating! I do it all the time! Look at me getting all these fascinating text messages!

3. The truth (version 2) — I’m miserable; I don’t think I’ll ever get over you. Why didn’t you care about me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Whenever I hear “Atlantic City” I think of us singing along to it together in the back of that bar and I have to stop whatever I’m doing and cry.

4. Untruth (version 2) –I’m sleeping with an older married guy from work – well from work before I quit – and a 17 year-old on the side. And also your best friend. It’s alright, I guess. I don’t really care about any of them because I started doing a lot of [insert scary drug here] and it kinda takes up most of my time. Yeah, you really fucked me up! You should probably feel guilty about ruining my life! I gotta go, that’s my dealer calling. And I need that money you owe me.

I should probably do some sort of cost-benefit analysis on each of these approaches before tomorrow night, because right now I’m leaning towards #4.