It's the best spot in Manhattan for a sinfully delicious ice cream sundae. And it's where three young women come to soothe their troubles and treat themselves to a little taste of heaven. Lucky in friendship, not always so lucky in love, these women know that just a few spoonfuls of ice cream can sweeten everything from a date gone sour to a workday from hell. But before they can say "extra whipped cream," they're going to discover that there's more to life than hot fudge--and that making their dreams come true is the real cherry on top.
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October 05, 2004
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Excerpt from Never on a Sundae by Wendy Markham
When one has lived someplace for as long as you've inhabited apartment 4E at 397 West Broadway in lower Manhattan, one accumulates a lot of crap.
Not that you consider your stuff crap.
Your fiance, however, does.
If it weren't for him, you--and your so-called crap--would be staying in apartment 4E at 397 West Broadway indefinitely, and there would be no need for this urgent excursion to Duane Reade for trash bags on a glorious Saturday morning in October.
Your recently dumped friend Lorinda, who has nothing better to do, has agreed to tag along. She has a vested interest in the cleaning-out-the-closets-cabinets-and-drawers process, since she's planning to take over your rent-controlled lease at the end of the month. She has always coveted your studio apartment with high ceilings, parquet floors, crown moldings, exposed brick, separate galley kitchen, and a wall of tall windows overlooking the street.
She does not covet the aforementioned crap.
Nor does your fiance, who is tolerant of so many other quirks about you: your aversion to vegetables, your belly button ring, your cat.
His name is Bob.
Your fiance's name, not the cat's. Nor the belly button's. People who name body parts are just creepy, in your opinion.
Your cat is named Hansel, which Bob thinks is a great name for a cat. You found this out when you were first dating and he said, "Hansel, wow, great name." You told him that someday when you have kids, you might want to name a son Hansel. Because you never imagined at that point that Bob would be the father of your future children, you weren't really concerned when Bob amended that Hansel is a great name for a cat but a stupid name for a kid.