Poor Jen - off by herself paddling on a surfboard while David, Courteney and their little kiddie share family-time in a boat. Coulda been you Jen - if only you'd been able to hold on to Brad. Or Vince. Or any man long enough for their seed to take root in that barren, toxic cavern you call a womb. We can already see your future Jen - you're that nice older, childless lady who doesn't bother coloring her gray hair anymore (because there's no one to look young for), who's always out walking her dogs, and stops off at the sidewalk cafe to shoot the breeze with whoever happens to be sitting there. She plays a lot of solitaire, this lady, and spends her weekends antiquing with her only pal, the old queen who lives next door to her at the retirement home. She cooks big pans of vegetarian lasagna, and brings it over to the old queen's room, and they eat lasagna and drink wine and watch Greta Garbo movies. Then the old lady takes her pan home and scrubs it, and puts on her nightgown and crawls into bed, and stares out the window at the lights which remind her mysteriously of the past...
