“If you want a happy ending that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.” Orson Welles
“It's not unusual to be loved by anyone
It's not unusual to have fun with anyone
But when I see you hanging about with anyone
It's not unusual to see me cry, I wanna die
It's not unusual to go out at any time
But when I see you out and about it's such a crime
If you should ever want to be loved by anyone
It's not unusual it happens every day no matter what you say
You'll find it happens all the time
Love will never do what you want it to
Why can't this crazy love be mine?
It's not unusual to be mad with anyone
It's not unusual to be sad with anyone
But if I ever find that you've changed at anytime
It's not unusual to find out I'm in love with you” Tom Jones (It’s Not Unusual)
“So why am I coming?” asked Joyce. Peggy and Stan just smirked at each other in response and then added “You will see, aside from seeing Yours Truly get interviewed by this British Broad with a large rack….” with Peggy giving Stan a playful smack with her purse. “But she doesn’t like girls, but she knows someone who does!” “Stan! You didn’t! Oh my God you are too much!” “What? Are you two talking about?”
Peggy then turned and smiled sweetly at Joyce: it has been about 40 years since they first met and Margaret Olson Rizzo was still as beautiful as the day Joyce met her, only now more matured and stronger. She first noticed Peggy’s brilliant blue eyes, her slightly crooked teeth, soft face, her quiet observance and willingness to try new things; for a girl who dressed a bit behind the times (and yet pulled it off with those hairdos and her pluckiness), she proved herself a truly cool girl. A kind of coolness she couldn’t take on or off like a mini skirt or jacket. Now here she was: a successful career in advertising behind her, her and Stan happily married with Empty Nest Syndrome, more confident, knowing, and had been interviewed about her career by a foreign journalist.
“The journalist from Britain, she mentioned she had a nice single friend she would like to play matchmaker and I decided to tell her that I have a friend about my age…and we decided to give it a shot and have a semi-blind date for the two of you!” Peggy laughed. Stan snorts, “Lucky for Bridget, Peggy liked her, she is kind of like Meredith was those years ago” and Peggy turns with a playfully dirty look “Bridget is no Meredith” and they both grimaced at the ditzy blonde secretary who had a plane thrown at her by Joan Harris. “What I was told by Bridget was that this girl is beautiful with a thin figure, tall, works as an assistant to her fiancé Mark at a law firm, and that she can speak Latin and ski while maintaining perfect shiny hair.” Joyce looks on with curiosity: “So a Megan?” and Stan whistled “I doubt she is truly a Megan. Plus that Bridget, what a very interesting match she made with Mark, he seems a bit weak for a woman with her energy and hot ass.” “That’s what people said when they found out we were dating!”
“Well according to my father, he found me in a Swedish orphanage and there after we immigrated to the United States where we relied on the help of some aid societies for shelter and language classes and job training,” explained Michael “Ginzo” Ginsberg to a pretty, blonde woman in a nice pastel green cotton blend top with florals and a indigo blue short skirt. Joyce noted a few things here: Michael has gotten a lot of psychiatric help and he has mellowed out some, though he is still eccentric and bursts out, but he came far from the paranoid young man in disheveled clothing who cut his nipple off and for another, Stan wasn’t kidding, Bridget Jones is a gorgeous girl and Joyce noticed that she had an amply curvy figure that enhanced her clothing rather than the other way around. Joyce soon looked over and saw a tall, distinguished-looking man who looked as fit as Rizzo once did when she met him and she noticed he was a bit wound up, but was very much in awe of his fiancé. “As he should be,” smirked Joyce thinking of all the men she encountered who had amazing women for their wives or girlfriends, only to treat them like a dime a dozen. She looked quickly and saw a tall, young, thin woman next to Mark Darcy: she couldn’t make them out as being related to one another but saw how close they were to one another, a sort of intimacy that cannot be explained away as a romance, but something platonic and real. It was soon Stan’s turn to be interviewed by Bridget: “I started right after college free-lancing and people were soon impressed with my talent, about a decade later, I got a call requesting that I come work at Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce on a cold drops account with one of their copywriters, who is now my wife, and I was an ass. I gave her such a hard time and she really showed me up that night. Didn’t hurt that she looked cute doing it in a white Maidenform…”
Joyce glanced and saw that the young woman was looking right at her. Joyce noticed more: the young woman was beautiful with long and shiny chocolate brown hair, very straight hair, wide brown eyes that took in everything and managed to be gentle, clear fair skin with rosy cheeks, barely any makeup, she was very tall and was not wearing any heels, her dress was simple yet feminine and practical (short sleeved cotton violet cardigan with matching scoop necked top underneath and bright yellow capris with some pink pearl ear studs), very thin not a lot of curves but very sweet, and she noticed the woman had very long and slim legs. Joyce smiled and thought to herself that she was lucky some of the youth fashions suited her (layered polo shirts updated her usual look) and she winked at the girl, who soon blushed and touched her concave stomach and Mark gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, whispering and smiling at her. The pair soon left, “Well there goes my chance,” thought Joyce. Maybe she ought to listen to others and resign herself to her unofficial widowhood and stop dating? Rebecca was significantly younger than her; she was probably older than the pretty girl’s mother. Peggy came by and massaged Joyce’s shoulders, “It will be alright, it’s not over, actually me and Bridget had some plans,” smirked the graduate of Miss Deaver’s Secretarial School 1960.
After about an hour, Stan and Bridget came over, “Mark and Rebecca just came to Katz’s Deli to make a reservation for us all; they just called a table for six, would you like to join? Perhaps Becky wouldn’t feel surrounded by smug committed heterosexuals?” winked Bridget to Joyce. The older woman just noticed that Stan and Peggy were both smiling like the cat who ate the canary, “What is this all about?” she thought, “Sure,” she replied to the English Rose, “I can join in for lunch.” Whether anything came of this meeting or not, she was not going to let Becky feel like a token, or worse, like a wallflower.
The reservation was well advised: Katz’s was always filled with a lot of people. The party of a young British woman and three American Senior Citizens made their way to the table reserved by Mark and Rebecca. Mark and Becky both looked happy to see the party, though the young woman did look a bit red in the face. Bridget wasted no time in her matchmaking scheme she cooked up with Peggy: “Mark, Becky you have met Stan and Peggy, this is their friend Joyce Ramsay. She worked as a photographer for Life magazine and travels a great deal across the pond from here to the UK on photographic assignments. Ms. Ramsay, this is my fiancé Mark Darcy and his assistant and our dear friend, Rebecca Gillies.” The women looked at one another intently, Joyce noticed Rebecca was not only beautiful, but she had an air of maturity about her and she had the same ambition that made Peggy so irresistible to her. They took each other’s hand, Joyce herself took very good care of her hands: soft and capable. But Becky’s hands were a whole level of competence and gentleness, still struck (and hoping she looked more smooth than she felt inside) Joyce replied “Hello Ms. Gillies, it’s finally nice to meet you in person after we have been staring at one another.”