Before I left for work today, Henry was enrapt in some dating show on Fox Reality called "Manhattan Match." There was some sniveling basketcase of a single woman on there, and let me tell you, she was saying all those red-flag things that, if I was a man, would have had my penis tripping over itself to be castrated. She was sobbing and whimpering things like, "I’m not needy! I’m not! I don’t know why guys leave me! My last boyfriend went on a business trip and I never heard from him again! I have no standards, I’ll take anyone who gives me attention!"
It was a level of desperation I couldn’t fathom.
"I don’t know what’s worse," I said to Henry. "Being so desperate that you find yourself crying on a dating show, or being stuck in a loveless, dead-end relationship like I am."
He wasn’t amused.