Stop checking your ***damn phone!!

I'm sitting across from a friend having late night munchies after bar hopping. She's gone incognito. Every once in a while I see a beam of light hit the side of her face from her blackberry -- and like a moth to a flame she responds.

I'm all for late night text messages that make you feel warm and fuzzy -- that allow you to have a good chuckle with your girlfriends; but I do get concerned when the frown becomes stiffened.

"Everything, ok?" I ask. She seems a little distracted. Here we are, having a fun time -- and the boyfriend is acting a bit needy.

"Yeah," she says, "He's just lonely."

Ah. The lonely card. Well, we've all been there. Lonely sucks. But I would venture to say that he's a little more concerned with her exact whereabouts (ie. not talking to any cute boys), than he is in need of some TLC. Why else would he be texting at 3am? The phone lights up her face every few minutes. The frown thickens. I sit there, eating my wings and try not to let it bother me. After all, we all get into stupid situations when we're a bit drunk. Perspectives become skewed once alcohol hits the bloodstream. Emotions run high.

But, it bothers me that she is letting her blackberry get in the way of us having a good night. And, to me -- that's not a good sign.

I have other friends who are text maniacs with whomever they're dating -- and that's fine. Who am I to judge them? I like a good text once in a while too...but, when it depletes you; common sense should kick in, no? Or am I just crazy?

So, there we are -- devoid of conversation because her mind is spinning with whatever is going on at the moment with her boyfriend. Maybe there is a legitimate crisis? Maybe he really is panicking -- after all, I'm that scary single friend; and who knows what kind of trouble I could get his girlfriend in? When you're the person sitting at home with all the space in the world to superimpose possibilities -- the negative can seep in. I get it.

But I'm annoyed. I haven't seen this friend in a while, and I just wish that she'd give him a call, tell him she loves him and be done with it. Or...just ignore his needy ass until we get home.

But I can't really blame her. We've all been there. We've all been that girl who fills the emotional space instead of letting it rest for a while.

What if I hurt his feelings? We suppose. But, the truth of the matter is -- they're men; and we won't. At least -- not the healthy ones.

And maybe that's a sign. Or the point.

In any case, on the off-chance that he was in a bad place -- she was there for him...every three or four minutes. Not in the way that makes you laugh or get excited. In the other way, the one that makes your stomach turn and emotionally drains you.

Sigh. It's times like these -- when you're a first hand witness to the annoyances of being in a relationship that I actual revel my singledom. No one to answer to. No one to be there for -- at least, not while I'm out having a good time.

I've never understood why we (women) let a guy get in the way of our good time. Where did that come from? He's at home. He's safe. No one is hurting him. You're out. You're having fun. You've done the perfunctory phone calls throughout the night.

I sit there unimpressed as I watch the blood drain from her face. She tells me her stomach is off -- but I know that perhaps there is more of a quarrel happening than she is letting on. It's none of my business really; after all, I don't know the guy -- so I could just be making this all up in my head...but it's put a damper affect on the night. Her smile is gone.

I decide to be gracious. Maybe she's just tired. Maybe I'm too boring come the wee hours of the morning. It's very possible that I am just too drunk and reading way too much into everything.

And, if that's the case -- then I apologize. I'm a writer. We spin out of control...

And yet, I can't ignore the fact that she keeps dialing. Again, and again. It doesn't make any sense.

I turn my attention to a rowdy group of guys to our left who are laughing about something that happened earlier in the night. I like this place. The food is alright. The prices aren't bad. If they served after hours it would be amazing...

"Oh," I say. We have decided to leave. Her stomach is bothering her.

I wrap up the rest of my food. I guess the night has run its course. Maybe I'm just being selfish at this point...wanting the fun to continue a bit longer. We hug. She leaves. The night is over.

As I get into a cab and head home -- I hope that everything is ok. That it really is her stomach and not the guy. But, it's not my journey. Everyone has arguments -- and it's very easy to paint a very black picture when you've only seen a small portion of what is really going on.