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But not according to one such man I met this weekend. For the sake of this column, I’ll call him Logan-The-Great since he’s so worldly and wise, unlike myself.
It was following my disastrous date, where I cursed myself for falling into the vast pit of societal pressure to seek male companionship on a Friday, that I had my run-in with LTG.
In the short span of our encounter, he managed to mock me, tear down my desire to be single, and try his hand at playing therapist. According to him, all women ultimately desire love and can only find true happiness in the form of a romantic partner.
Still listening? If not, pay attention. Yes, you, over there, enjoying your morning coffee in solitude. I’m talking to you. Guess what? According to Logan-The-Great, there must be a reason you don’t want a man. It can’t possibly have anything to do with finding happiness within yourself. You’re not living unless you need a member of the opposite sex to complete you. You’re defective, damaged. Because no one could possibly be happy single.
Sound familiar? Have enough of this archaic thinking, ladies?
I’m here to tell you, don’t give into the pressure.
“He sounded hot.” Caroline popped her gum and wiggled her brows, pulling Marti from her thoughts.
Marti arched a brow, refusing to respond because any confirmation of Logan’s level of hotness would result in badgering. And she hated badgering.
“Hot men are the worst,” Mel said, appearing from around the corner. She leaned against the opening to Marti’s cubicle and offered her a fist bump, which Marti returned with gratitude.
“What she said.” Marti hooked a thumb at her.
“Ugh. Whatever. At least he was interesting,” Caroline muttered.
“I’ll give you that. He definitely scored higher on the Richter scale of men than the last dozen or so duds, but that’s not saying much.”
“I still don’t understand why you don’t just find a nice guy to settle down with.”
“And miss out on all the piquant material for my column?” Marti looked up at her friend, who would forever be a hopeless romantic, and winked. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”
“Well, if I could find a man in this city who actually wanted a relationship like Logan, I would scoop him up and never let him out of my sight.”
“We know,” Marti and Mel said in unison, laughing.
Caroline huffed and turned back to the view. “Forgot one.” She pointed to another ceiling tile and popped an almond in her mouth as the contractor shifted his focus to the new area. “There’s a bit of water-staining on that one, as well.” She motioned to another section with a micro-sized rust spot.
Penny from marketing poked her head around Marti’s cubicle. “Think we could bust a pipe in the ladies room while we’re at it?”
Caroline pursed her lips, as if considering this new idea. “It’s worth a shot.”
“Thank you, water leak,” Mel watched in awe.
“Not you too.” Marti groaned. “You’re shameful.”
“Hey, I might not want a man in my life, but I can still enjoy a nice view when I see one.”
“Huddle in two!” Blue’s voice boomed across the office out of nowhere.
Marti jerked, nearly toppling out of her chair. When she failed to catch her balance, she knocked the mug of pencils off her desk, making Caroline spill her coffee all over her blouse.
“Why? Why must she sneak up on us like that?” Marti asked.
“She takes pleasure in making us pee ourselves.” Caroline wiped furiously at the stain with a napkin.
“It’s her thing,” Mel mumbled, but her gaze never wavered as she continued man-ogling. She just kept on sipping from her mug, staring at the man-candy in front of her, looking half-starved.
“It doesn’t ever startle you,” Marti accused, scooping her pens off the floor.
Mel glanced over at her with a raised brow. “Marti, I have three kids. Triplets. All three of them came out of my vagina in a matter of minutes, and now they’re four years old. You should see what they did to my body. Nothing startles me anymore.”
Marti cringed. “TMI.”
