It's Amazing Any of Us Manage to Couple Successfully

A conversation over craft beer in the heartland.

A bar in Wichita. On the smaller side four hi-tops, a short bar top, most of the building is built for the microbrewery in the back. Lightly colored wood, faux antique beer steins on the wall behind the bar, plenty of light.

"Oh, I'm done with dating," the heavier, more talkative woman offered, out of blue as if she was asked somewhere in her mind or was suddenly voicing an inner monologue. She looked to her thinner, quieter friend. "Right?"

"Yeah. It isn't really very fun anymore,' her friend offered.

"Was it ever really fun?"

Inner Monologue zones in on my comment. "Oh, I think it has to be more fun for guys. Guys have it easier and get to choose. Women are stuck with what’s left and it isn’t all that. What sort of woman is your type? Do you even have a type?"

"I... think that's a loaded question that'll probably get me into trouble. I mean, there is the ideal type and then the type I tend to go for. Given I've racked up three divorces, I suppose the type I go for is not ideal. You first."

“THREE?” blurted out the Quiet One. “How old are you?”

“Old.”

“Jesus. What type do you go for?” Inner Monologue waved at the bartender for another pint as she moved forward a bit.

“Again. Loaded. You two first.”

“OK. Fine. Be that way. What I like—the ideal—is a tall, muscular guy with facial hair. I love a beard on a man! He has to be employed because I’ve dated enough freeloaders to last a lifetime and he needs to be a gentleman.”

The Quiet One piped up. “He needs to know how to listen. And be able to express his emotions…”

“But not angry emotions. Those kind of guys are toxic.”

“Anger makes a dude toxic? Does that translate to women or is it exclusively reserved for men?” I asked.

"Women aren't violent."

"Is that right?"

"Not as violent."

"If you say so."

The Quiet One ordered another beer. "What about you?"

"Am I violent? Not anymore. I was a bit when I was a lot younger but I'm much more chilled out. As my dad likes to say, I have a few more ass kickings left in me but I'm saving them for when it counts."

"No. What's your type?"

"Physically? I like skinny women with big tits, a pretty face, tattoos are a plus. Sparkly eyes. Well read. Argumentative. Probably between eight and fifteen years younger than I am."

The bartender looked over and muttered "Oh, shit, dude."

Inner Monologue curled her lip up. "Typical older man."

"Yeah, pretty much."

"That's just patriarchy talking. A beauty standard most women can't attain."

"Interesting take. I used to say that every time anyone, man, woman, or other hops onto the El in Chicago there are at least three people in that car who would gladly bang them. The problem is that we all have the list and that list trumps all."

"I don't have a list."

"Tall, muscular, beard, employed. Sounds like a list to me."

An awkward beat of silence. We all three take a drink. I look at my beer and order a second.

"Is that why you've been divorced so many times?"

"Because I'm an asshole?"

"No." She laughed. "Your type."

"Well, it isn't the physical part that does me in. I tend toward the unstable, the manic pixie dream girls who are exciting and irreverent. My first wife was not like that at all."

"Why'd you marry her if she wasn't your type?"

"We got married young. I think we decided to go for it because we dated in college, became that couple and were both afraid to let go of the security of one another even though we both knew it wasn't exactly right."

"That's kind of sad."

"Yup. We had a lot of good years but we were more partners than a couple. Eventually, I realized things weren't going the way either of us wanted and we divorced. It was amicable until she went to a divorced women's group and then, all of a sudden, I was the villain."

"Did you ever cheat on her?"

"No. Not once although there were a lot of friends who thought I did. Which, I guess is worse than actually cheating. Either of you ever been married?"

"She has," giggled the Quiet One.

"What happened?"

"Oh GAWD. He was so my type. The list—OK, I have one—was achieved. Met at work. It was great for awhile then he decided I wasn't sexy enough and divorced me for a younger, thinner version of your manic dream girl. He was fucking asshole."

"Was your second wife your type?"

"Nah. We were artistic comrades in theater. She was a genius—is a genius—and I was driven by a diehard battery up my ass. Great working relationship but not so sparky in the romance department. She found another dude and wouldn't let him go so we split up."

"Oh." The Quiet One perked up. "That sounds exactly like my last boyfriend. We were so good together. He was my best friend. We loved kayaking and hiking and stuff. He was a real mountain man type. We totally complimented each other's weaknesses but there wasn't a whole lot of.." and she got even quieter. "...sex. There was almost no romance in it at all. That was a hard break up."

All three of us sat for a moment in silence.

"The beer here is quite good, don't you think?"

"Yeah, right? We come here at least once a week. Try the coffee stout. It's a-MAZ-ing."

"Three times."

"Huh?"

"Three."

"Ah! Yup. Three. The third was the very definition of that manic pixie dream girl. I fell so hard for her I asked her to marry me after three dates."

"WHAT? Oh, you're stupid."

I laughed and almost did a spit take. "You could definitely make a case for that."

"So..."

"We moved to Vegas and she died."

"Oh. OH. I'm so sorry. Oh my god, that's terrible."

"OK. Hold on. That's not fair. She didn't die. Let's just say that Vegas was like her spirit animal and she... cheated... with a lot of men. And maybe some women. So we split up and I came back to Kansas to lick my wounds."

"Define a lot. Like, more than what...?"

"Thirty-five regulars. More one night… stands."

"Oh, fuck. FUCK. That's horrible. How did you find out?"

"She told me. I think she thought I'd catch her or something and carried on for a couple of years until I did and then... BAM."

"Man, that's hard."

"Oh, I'll be alright. I didn't think so for a bit but being single has its perks. Time to think and reflect is good for the soul."

“Do you talk to her anymore?”

“Nope. That’s good for the soul, too.”

"So, no dating?"

"Nope. Not gonna, either. I'm been chasing women who wanted to be chased my entire life and that has to end. No dating. Besides, I especially like being alone. For now."

"For now?"

"I used to think I knew what the future held. Now, I barely know what'll happen tomorrow. Better to just relax and walk a solo path."

"Me, too."

"You liar!"

"What?"

"She's on OKCupid and Hinge."

With that Inner Monologue shrugged, laughed, and gulped down her beer. "Fuck. Gimme another."