Personal essays track the dating travails of a film executive in her 40s, attempting to prove that single isn’t synonymous with second-best.
Lightly humorous and rife with references to pop culture, the 24 pieces collected here are fueled by the author’s myopic quest for fulfillment. Manufactured as a nonfiction simulacrum of Sex and the City, Guidry’s memoir reads like a tawdry diary recounting exploits and missteps with one man after another. She makes myriad claims to be happy without a husband; indeed, her constant need to defend her choice to be alone to everyone in her life does inspire sympathy. Her book’s greatest draw, however, is also its undoing. Guidry’s musings about being alone in a world of couples are initially witty and ebullient, but she prattles incessantly about herself in a manner that eventually becomes grating. Her occasional sex life, or lack thereof, is not a substantial or entertaining enough subject on which to hang 300 pages. Guidry’s critique of men in Los Angeles and her internal monologue about the choices that have left her professionally successful and personally alone are the least interesting aspects of her story. Clichéd statements lifted from the side of a box of Celestial Seasonings tea and admissions on the order of, “Sure, I’d like a man, but I don’t need a man,” are writ large as revelatory. The real underlying question is not whether Guidry will find a romantic partner, but to what else she might devote her considerable energies and enthusiasm if and when she has room in her life for someone other than herself.
Rambling and self-involved.