Page 151 of The Last Good Man

“It’s not only that. It’s about getting used to dealing with these men and learning to discern good from bad.”

“You already know he’s not good. The pants you have in your hand say it.”

Sighing, I drop my clothes on the bed.

“I don’t want to spend time alone at home on a Saturday evening. That’s it.”

For the longest time, I did just that. I used to work so much there was no time for anything else.

She flicks her hands up.

“You do what you think is best for you. Who is this man again?”

“Some French guy I met a while back.”

“Is he cute?”

I dismiss her question with a clipped gesture before returning to the closet and looking for something to wear.

“He’s a whore,” I say, still searching.

“A what??”

She chuckles while I spin around to face her with a few outfits draped over my arm.

I put them all on my bed andsiftthrough them.

“What do you mean he’s a whore?” she asks from a nearby chair.

“They all are. I’m just a name on his hit list.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.Hewanted to see mesome timeback, then changedhismind and flew to Paris. After spending some time in ParisandLondon, he wants to see me again.”

“He’s a frequent flyer, this guy, isn’t he?”

“He isn’t the point of this conversation. I’m making plans with these guys for a reason. I’m going out to have dinner. Nothing more. The more men I see, the more men I attract, and hopefully, one of them will be a normal guy who doesn’t dip his dick into every woman he crosses paths with.”

“The premise sounds awful.”

“It is what it is. I’m a bit late. Everyone I know has gottentheirsignificant other. I went fromheretohere. And nowhere.”

Using my hand, I explain to her how I've lowered the bar and, with it, my expectations.

I went from trying to find a great love story to finding someone suitable to finding someone half-suitable who doesn’t get on my nerves.

“All good men are taken…” she murmurs wistfully.“But not always. My mother found a good man. Hersecond husband.”

“Your mother traveled the world, and he’s into traveling, living his life to the fullest, and more importantly, into her. He’s learned his lessons, too. Oftentimes, men make great second husbands. I’m sure I can get someone like that for myself when I’m sixty-five. Maybe that’s the thing. I need to wait. Just forget about them now and get them when they’re more seasoned,” I say, giving up on finding the perfect outfit.

“What about kids?” she asks.

Holding a gray dress, I lower myself to the edge of the bed.

“Yeah… Kids,” I murmur, not looking at her. “I can always use donor sperm.”

“You’re not serious.”

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