My best friend was in town last weekend, on an unexpected personal trip to the West Coast.

I put Nolan to bed a little early and we sat on teak patio chairs in the fading light of summer, delivery pizza cooling on the counter inside.  We sat in silence, we sat in gratitude, we cried quietly in snippets and high-fived one another at particularly bizarre and profound utterances.  I sat back in my chair and remembered something I often forget in the chaos of my life as a single Mama: friends are precious commodities, at any stage, at any age.

Talk turned to men, as it often does.  She is 34, single, no children.  I’m a year behind her, single, with one baby who has perplexingly sprouted into a little boy.  We’ve been friends for 15 years, she and I: we met when she was a bartender and I was a cocktail waitress at a rugby-player infused Irish pub.  We spent most of our early twenties swilling summer cocktails and flirting with cute snowboarders; we spent the latter part of that decade convincing ourselves that we could change the bad boys.  If they had heart, we argued, the rest could be fixed.  Heart, humor, that’s the stuff that matters.

“So what matters now?”I asked in the dark,”Fiscal responsibility?  A man who loves children?  Tenacity?”

“Money,”she answered, and we both laughed, but not really.

We were quiet.  Both of us are successful career women in our own right: we own our houses, we are driven, we’ve invested money wisely.  Historically, we’ve both had relationships with men who partied more than worked, who became accustomed for us paying the way for them.  Neither one of us have ever been accused of being money-grubbers.

“Really?” I said.

“Well, maybe.  I mean — if the heart is there, money means tenacity, and drive, and god, you have to admit it becomes more important as you realize you’ll retire one day, that you may have to take care of an infirm parent.”

“So you wouldn’t date a poor man again?”

“No.”

I sighed.

“I get it.  Now that I’m older, now that there’s Nolan, it’s work ethic, fiscal responsibility, and then heart.”

“No more flaming chemistry and sense of humor?” she asked, referring to my previous top-two must haves.

I shook my head, looked at her.  There were no high fives then, but there was a quiet understanding, and we both sighed.  I wish I knew then what I knew now, but if I can’t have that, then I’m very glad to have girlfriends who understand.