To Know or Not to Know? That is the Question.

Carole explains there are two types of women in the world: Those who don’t want to know and those who do.

I sometimes feel the need to remind people that I write these blogs for entertainment –- tongue inserted firmly in cheek. This space is not intended for me to wax poetic about social injustices and the heartbreaking truths of real life.

These blogs are also not intended to be the gospel on my feelings about you, my mailman, my boyfriend, or any of my Housewife friends (including their homes, pets, kids, friends, shoes and significant others.) This is a place to regard and rehash really important things, like “You drank too much and you’re acting weird,” or “I know I am, but what are you?”  I write these for my amusement, and I hope sometimes yours. If not, that's cool. We all know how to be cool.

This episode was amaaazing. From Luann’s plucky betrothed giddiness to Dorinda’s dour martini-fueled post-marital gloom, never has there been a Housewives show that dared to tackle the serious existential questions of life, love, and the pursuit of Sonja’s past suitors.

First, Life. Is there anything cuter than Vinny and Baby? Vinny taught me in ten days what so many other relationships could not. For the first time I saw clearly my lifelong tendency to create temporary relationships -- whether with a pet or a man or a friend. My sister, Teresa, says I write my endings before I’ve lived the middle. She’s right. And as Dr. Seuss might say, “I’m a thinker of things. I’m a thinker of that.” It’s the way my brain is formed. It sucks in my hat. I study what happens in my life and I try to draw out the truths. I learn from them and sometimes the lesson is tough to come by but I get there eventually.

Second, Love. Like most things, I think women have two categories: Those who don’t want to know and those who do. Count me in the latter. I’m a reporter by nature, I want to know everything. Just to be clear, here are some examples of things I want to know:

If you see my brand new soul mate boyfriend on a date with another woman, I want to know. And when I say “on a date” I mean my boyfriend is speaking to a woman you don’t know. It might be his sister, it might be mine. It could be a new client, or even Betty, our newlywed best friend. They could be having lunch openly in an outdoor café and sitting a respectable distance apart -- you might even see them split the check. It’s probably nothing. But that’s not for you to decide. If you don’t recognize her, and they speak – if you are my friend - report it to me immediately! A cell-phone shot would be great.

If you hear that my soul mate sends jewelry to his ex-girlfriend, I want to know.

If you spot him at a tanning salon, suspicious yoga class, or in Brooklyn on a weekday, I want to know.

If you hear that my soul mate still tells one or more of his exes he loves her, I want to know. Audio recording is preferable. But if you’re just sitting in a nearby restaurant booth or eavesdropping behind a door, that's fine too. Lip-reading works, so does “I heard it from my best friend whose cousin knows her roommate who woke up once in an ice-tub filled bath, short a kidney.”

Lastly, Pursuit. The pursuit of Sonja’s Suitors leads to the greatest existential question of all time: How long do you wait to tell your good friend, who you are living with, that you’re getting engaged to her recent ex?

I thumbed through Luann’s book on manners but she didn’t include a chapter on this. Based on prior experience with her, I assume it’s somewhere between “Hi, nice to meet you,” and the second date. I told Luann about Adam, who had dated her niece (a woman I met only briefly) right after our second date. We hadn’t even kissed, let alone got engaged. And boy, was she mad. Luann, who lives with Sonja, and was soul-mating Sonja’s ex, waited two months.

Wow! But the real news here is Luann is the girlfriend who doesn’t want to know. I wish I’d seen this episode before we go to Miami to celebrate Luann’s engagement. You will soon understand why.

That's all I'm saying. Radzi out.

All Posts About:
Carole Radziwill

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