Jew #3

Jew #3

If I couldn’t have a doctor in a white coat then another white coat would simply have to do. A girl should always have a Plan B, and mine was Operation Pharmacist, Plan B.

Pharmguy presented well: college grad (A++ for a double masters in business and pharmacology), divorced (he met the over three year no angry baggage guideline), no children, no desire for children (read: no desire for more offspring to suck the life from my bones), and dead parents (A+ no explanation as to why I don’t want to mother her son’s evil spawn). You notice my “WOW” factor enthusiasm fading like cut flowers without water. I was getting tired of the dog and pony show; my bark was growing weak and my pony wanted to quietly return to the stall and get some sleep.

The process of endless primping was growing old and expensive. The routine cut, color, make up, shaving a FULL legs plus toe fuzz, manicure, pedicure, bronzer and hot rollers seemed so unfair compared to a guy’s shit, shower and shave approach to dating.

The thought of another disappointing encounter weighed heavily on my “ant can move a rubber tree plant” enthusiasm for living happily ever after. Also, my ass started to weigh heavily from too many meals out; hence Plan B was a quick business lunch in the city. It was my restructured, modern-day “dine and dash”; similar to a drive-by shooting with the potential of falling in love, sans the gang violence.

A steakhouse at the corner of Spruce and Broad was the scene of my crime. I approached the victim with caution hoping he was unarmed and not dangerous. The usual greeting commenced: the tap-tap, hug, and a “gee thanks for meeting me” grin. He complimented me over and over on my beautiful smile, my lovely eyes and my enchanting sundress. He spun endless accolades on my princess-like shoes, my golden hair glistening in the sun and he accurately identified my dainty Tiffany’s bracelet dangling from my wrist.

He spoke of his undying dedication to his mother during her life. The joy of taking her and her girlfriends to musicals, traveling to places Mother wished to see, helping her pick out clothing and then I saw the chalk outline.

It hit me like an anvil filled with fairy dust: the only thing Pharmguy wanted from me was my closet full of sundresses, my best strappy sandals, and my collection of Madonna CDs.

And I went back to work…