Maneater

I was at the United Way fair drive for work this evening when I ran into a co-worker I used to work with when I was practicing process engineering. I hadn't seen Gerard in a while, and he asked me, "So, do you have a permanent man in your life?" I replied, "You mean, besides Shorty? No. I haven't met the right one yet." Gerard then floored me when he said, "Yeah, 'cause you know you use 'em & discard them like trash." I was a little taken aback by his comment.

Me? A maneater?

I thought about what he said and remembered the lyrics to that old song by Hall & Oates. I am about the money (fiscal responsibility is a critical quality for me), but I'd hate to think that I use men for money. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself financially and would love to share my life with someone, but I'll be damned if I'm going to support a man because a man should be able to take care of himself & me. Maybe what Gerard meant was, "Now I'm not saying you're a golddigger, but you ain't messin' with no broke-de-broke".

I know that I'm the dream woman for a lot of men (I hate shopping, I hate spending money, I take very little time to get ready to go out, I'm all about us having our own time separately then coming together at the end of the day to share our experiences [boys' night out? Go! & don't bother me when I get together once a month with my Red Hat friends], I don't wear a lot of make-up [by God's grace, I don't need it], Sports Center will already be on when he gets home...and don't talk to me while I'm watching March Madness!).

Maneater? No. I think I'm a man in a woman's body with XX chromasome hormones going on. The day I meet a man who's comfortable with that and is secure enough that he doesn't feel as if he's competing with me, I'll be in heaven.