“Oh, so he’s more than a guy who sticks up for women at work? A guy who loves his family enough to lie to them to make his mom happy? A man who has a solid friend group, a successful job, and is financially stable? Not to mention is hot as hell? What did I miss?”

I laugh at her thorough list, grabbing my sweater off the back of a chair. “Okay, yes, when you say all of those things, he kind of sounds like the perfect guy. I’m sure he has flaws, though. Probably spends hours getting ready in the morning. I bet he only sleeps with a top sheet and no blankets or comforters.”

“Wow. Is that our standard now? Men who have duvets on their bed are instantly more attractive than men who don’t and should be bumped up to marriage material?”

“Remember that guy you dated who didn’t even have a mattress? He slept with a pile of sheets on the floor.”

“We’re not talking about my mistakes here. You’re deflecting!”

“Do you want to accompany Henry instead? I’m sure he’d be more than willing to let you be by his side next weekend.”

“You know he’s not my type. Besides, it would be pointless. He’s clearly taken an interest in you.”

“He’s not my type either!” I exclaim.

“He could be your type.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s obvious you’re attracted to him. For one freaking second, will you allow yourself the opportunity to enjoy spending time with another human being? A male human being? Even if that human being is your former-academic-rival-current-coworker, Henry? You’ve got a good job, Em. You’re up for a big promotion. While I’d certainly never advocate for finding a guy to make you happy, why not explore the idea of having a man by your side, too? Even if it’s a causal, get-to-know-you thing? You owe it to yourself.”

I pause, considering her words.

Nicole’s right.

The entire stint of my twenties was spent becoming successful in my field. It didn’t happen overnight; I gave up dinners with friends to spend hours studying legal statutes and documents. Trips home were reduced to two visits a year, plane tickets unaffordable while working my way up the corporate ladder. Exhaustion became my personality while romance took a backseat. Since my last breakup, where he told me I spent “too much time helping others” and not enough time “helping him,” dating hasn’t interested me. I’ve guarded my heart fiercely.

Up to this point, my life hasn’t felt like it was missing anything monumental or substantial. There’s no void I needed filled. I’m content being alone. My house isn’t empty without a testosterone power present. It’s been a soon but not now aspiration, personal fulfillment taking priority over anyone else.