Looking for a Man with Something to Offer
Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Crimes to the Third Degree.
I went off on a colleague today. I’d reached my limit, and if she didn’t know it before, she does now. The subject? Who I’m dating…or not.
What’s with all these women I work with who don’t understand how I can function without a man joined at my hip? These are bright, well-meaning women who seem to have nothing in their non-work lives except boyfriends and the need to spend every minute with said boyfriend. I’ve met their boyfriends, and I’d like to thank these women for keeping those men—for the most part—off the street and away from me. Bleah.
But my colleagues have decided I, like them, need a man so I, like them, can be miserable. So they’ve decided to pick a few out for me. Never in a million years would I give most of these men a second glance, and it’s nothing to do with their looks either. These guys simply are not my type, and I’m being polite the first 50 times I say that.
The 51st time put me over the edge. That’s when my married-four-times-and-serially-miserable coworker told me—altogether now—”You’re too picky.”
I started to defend myself and thought better of it. You know what? I am picky. So what?
I have not asked for any help in the romance department or for any of my coworkers, heaven forbid, to help me find a man. And yet, they bring me suggestions, try to fix me up, explain to me how to catch and keep a man…that I don’t want in the first place. And yes, I turn up my nose at the men they try to match me with. Because I’m picky.
And why shouldn’t I be? I own my own home, my own vehicle, I have money in the bank and in investments, I have my kids’ college already paid for, I have fulfilling hobbies and a small but loyal circle of friends, a great relationship with my kids, an excellent credit rating, a respectable job that’s good if not totally fulfilling right now, I have several books coming out this year, I have a business on the side and an active spiritual life, I’m not looking for a father for my kids or a man who can “retire” me from my day job, and…they bring me guys who are between jobs and have been for years, men who hate kids, men who hate women, Alpha Dogs who expect me to fetch them beers while they watch a football game on TV, guys who can’t carry on a conversation but can tell me how I should dress when I go out with them, and piggies who still believe “obey” should be in every vow a woman takes. And then they tell me I’m too picky? I don’t think so.
Let’s just up the picky factor, shall we?
I’m picky. I can afford to be picky. I have standards and I’ve stuck to them. I don’t have to settle. And I’m not going to settle just so I can have what any guy carries between his legs.
You want me to be less picky? Fine. Then bring me a man who has something to offer me.
Even if it’s just his heart.
Especially if it’s his heart.