Lately I’ve begun to notice an alarming trend among some of my women friends:
They’re asking my advice about love (men), relationships (men), dating (men) and politics (men).
What concerns me is this: Why, all of a sudden, are these particular friends looking for helpful hints about men? These women are strong, they’re independent, they’ve got interesting careers and they have a continuum of fascinating love affairs that always end, sometimes in heartbreak, but more often with the theatrical flair of the finest drugstore novel bodice-ripper, to wit:
“I never want to see you again, Heathcliff-not in this lifetime or any other. You have forever altered the meaning of life for me. I have loved you more than life itself, and I was willing to give up being CEO of Acme International to help you start your wallpaper business. But no, you had to pitch your business to my board of directors. Well, here’s your new annual report: They demanded myresignation, my profit sharing, my stock plan, my pension plan and my key to the executive powder room. So take your paste pots, your wallpaper and go hang yourself.”
As I always do when I’m having a major philosophical crisis, I consulted my friend Martini.
“Martini, I don’t get it,” I said. “All of a sudden women are calling me for advice about men. Me! These are the same women who used to tell me I ought to be the divorce poster girl. So I got married again. Why am I suddenly supposed to have inside information?
“The reason is simple,” Martini said. “After your divorce you swore that you would never, ever-not in a million years-get married again. So now you, of all people, suddenly meet a great guy, fall in love and then two months later, you get married. And, OK, you won’t have your second anniversary until May, but anyone who sees you can tell the honeymoon is still going on. So, of course, everyone wants to know how it happened.
“Martini,” I said, “don’t you see what a trap it is for me to start issuing advice to other people? Especially people who haven’t taken seriously anything I’ve said for the last 10 years? I can’t tell other people how to find The One. All I know is that when I met The One, everything changed for me. I knew I loved him, and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. It didn’t mean I wasn’t scared . . .”
Martini yawned, but I went on: “Of course, there probably are some really important insights I could share if I really analyzed the situation . . . Martini, are you listening to me? Martini, stop snoring. Wake up, it’s your turn to pay the check.”
