In case you ever doubted how incredible the comments section of this blog is, Melissa found out her boyfriend was cheating on her from reading the comments section. Here.

And then she did what most people do when they discover their partner is cheating: Attempted to live in denial.

Then she stopped. And moved out.

The phone rings while my son is using it as a metronome and and I tell him, “Ignore it. We are practicing.”

He says, “But it’s Melissa. She needs you.”

I pick up. My son would usually use this moment to sneak away to the computer, hoping that I forget about practice. But instead he stays put, riveted to the drama.

My older son comes barreling down the stairs like there’s a fire. “Is it Melissa? Is she talking about J?”

I try to listen to Melissa but it’s hard.

My younger son says, “She is not talking about him. She broke up with him.”

Older son: “He cheated on her. That’s like breaking up with her.”

Younger son: “He brokecheated!”

Melissa wants the title of this post to be Good Endings Make For Good Beginnings.

WTF? This is why it’s so hard for me to find people besides Melissa to write about. Because people think they have good ideas for what I should write about and they sound like a Hallmark card.

So in the post with the title Good Endings Make Good Beginnings, Melissa broke up with J.

Since this is my post, I will tell you that J was interesting and fun to talk to but surely we all knew after my first (and last) post about J that it was not going to work out.

Melissa has a new apartment. She wants to know how to deal with the uneven nook. She wants to know how to treat the window sill that is too wide. She wants to know if she has good feng shui.

I write instructions for furniture placement on a napkin.

I used to think I had no idea what she liked and what she didn’t like, but then I realized, she has an Airbnb aesthetic — location-agnostic, low-cost mid-century, looks great in photos:

She asks, “Should I buy more rugs?” This question is not a small one. Melissa buys rugs on Etsy and she is so paranoid about her finds that she hides the favorites list of her account so that no one can buy rugs out from under her.

I say, “Yes! More rugs!” anticipating three days of no phone calls while she is indexing all the rugs for sale in the entire universe and cross referencing and price comparing to create the algorithm to produce the perfect rug purchase combination.

“Good, ” she says.

“Bye.”

“No. Wait.”

I walk into the garden so I can listen to Melissa. If I’m going to pick up the phone every time she calls then I want credit for being a good friend, and you don’t get credit if you don’t listen.

We talk for so long about the new apartment and the breakup and pharmaceuticals (always related to a breakup) that I am able to fertilize the roses and cut some for the house. And take a picture.

I don’t hear from Melissa for three days. I assume she is buying rugs. After eight days, I am worried.

She started dating.

She’s been on 17 dates.

“What???!?!?!”

“You always tell people that getting married doesn’t just happen. You have have to make it your job. So I’m making it my job.”

Like most women who are pulled together, Melissa spent her twenties saying she didn’t want kids so she was in no rush. And now she is 30 and she is in a rush.

Melissa does not like San Francisco. Seriously, San Francisco is not a real town. It’s affordable only to people with no kids or people who have exited startups. And most jobs are at startups – all of which are incredibly shitty to work for. And the town is rife with people like this woman who moved to the Bay Area because she is mind blowingly ignorant about the rampant scumminess of the startup world.

Melissa would rather move back to NYC but she can’t now because NYC is terrible for single women — five female models for each financially viable single male. And San Francisco is the opposite — females are the minority.

Melissa is changing her dating strategy so she doesn’t get another guy like J. She switched dating apps from Hinge to Bumble, which only lets girls initiate.

She spent a full day left swiping everyone who is a client of hers so they wouldn’t see her on the app. Then she went to the chiropractor for carpel tunnel.

She tried looking for Fs to date. J was an INTP. And the guy before that was an ISTJ. And the psychos in her prior dating history were all Ts.

But the Fs were a no go. They kept talking about feelings. And Melissa kept talking about facts. And then she worried that after getting rid of everyone she has worked with that the whole dating pool would be Fs.

She persevered. She went on two dates a day, forcing herself to go out with people she wasn’t sure about so that she stopped dating men who were bad for her. She had to take naps in between dates. She wore the same thing for every first date because who would know.

After weeks of this she was down to ENTJs and INTJs. I told her the INTJs would be too boring. Melissa is an INTJ and they will offer each other nothing new and INTJs get bored fast. Melissa told her INTJ date that I said that about INTJ dates and after the first date he texted her: “I think your friend was right.”

So Melissa is dating ENTJs.

I told her, “That’s a bad idea.”

“Why?” she said. “You’re an ENTJ. We get along so well.”

“ENTJs aren’t emotional and you aren’t emotional.”

“I don’t need a lot of emotion. I need someone who will always be competent and gainfully employed and driven to succeed.”

“Yeah. But ENTJs give nothing. They are too goal oriented. They will just be interested in you for how you help them meet their goals. They will use you to be better in their work.”

She said, “What?? This is not news to me. You’ve been doing that with me forever.”