meg ryan's best friend

In the movie version of our lives, most of us would like to think of ourselves as the Meg Ryan type - a plucky, adorable singleton who will find love in the end despite all quirks and flaws. Reality, though, casts most of us in the best friend role (think Rosie O'Donnell in Sleepless in Seattle), and asks us to provide immaculately timed comic wisecracks and a shoulder to cry on over a side dish of fries.

I find this analogy particularly fitting because a good friend of mine (who will remain nameless) recently went on a date with a celebrity (who will also remain nameless ... I have no interest in dealing with the personal entanglements of those who can afford to eat at nicer restaurants than I can ... if that is your fancy then please refer to Gawker on the sidebar). As my friend revealed detail after tabloid-ready detail, I felt dumpier, sadder and even more romantically helpless. Hello, my name is Rosie, please pass the cheesecake.

I'm not the green-with-envy type, but there was a very vocal part of me that wondered, "Why can't this happen to me?" It's not entirely out of the question. The New York experience so far has been romantic and cinematic, I could see myself being swept of my feet. But, it seems that this is one of those times when all people can be split into two groups. In this case, those who date celebrities and those who hear about it. And, for now, my ears are wide open.