Page 62 of Resisting the Grump

“Falling in love is a fine reason to hate yourself.”

“What?”

“Especially for a woman.” He took a sip of his beer and licked his lips. “Think about it.”

I blinked at him.

“Women don’t need men to be happy. They’re perfectly capable of living pleasurable lives without a walking, talking, attention-seeking pain in the ass by their side.”

“I don’t buy it.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said. “Because you think you’re God’s gift to women.”

“That’s not true.”

“I’d hate myself if I fell in love with you.”

I scowled at him. “Are you going to say anything helpful?”

“She shouldn’t have fallen for you. She was bound to realize it sooner or later.”

I leaned back in my chair. “That’s a no then.”

“Hey, not all hope is lost.”

I raised my brows, hoping he’d redeem himself.

“The continuation of our species relies on women like your neighbor ignoring their intuition and getting tangled up with men because the alternative—not being able to open jars or going your whole life without having someone around to help you with your luggage—is so unappealing.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Can you repeat that? It’s hard to hear you when you’re in the doghouse.”

I groaned. “What’s your point, Mac? Because it seems like the only one you’re making is that you’re the only fool who’s too clever to fall in love.”

“I’m not immune,” he said. “But I can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”

“Forget I said anything.”

“A relationship is a unique kind of abuse,” he said, ignoring my request. “You hitch yourself to another person even though their imperfections inevitably cause you incredible pain. So if you’re a well-adjusted person with any semblance of sovereignty and self-awareness, it’s only natural to give yourself grief if you see your singledom slipping away.”

“Are you seriously suggesting she hates herself for liking me back?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

“Keep your day job, Mac. I don’t see relationship counseling being a lucrative career move for you.”

“Just trying to help.”

“Oh, you’ve been helpful,” I lied. “I can’t wait to call her up and tell her the great news that it’s actually herself she hates.”

“She’ll probably appreciate the validation. Women love to feel understood.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot who just lined up your dream gig.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” I said, cutting my steak because it was something to do. “That’s why I haven’t kicked your shins under the table.”

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