“Okay, I get it!” I interrupt, shaking my head and stepping into the blessedly empty elevator. “Thank you for providing the evidence that I’m a colossal jerk. It was more of a philosophical thought.”

“God, you lawyers and your Descartes and Machiavellian bullshit.”

“I don’t think that’s right. Descartes was in mathematics. Wrong field, my friend.”

Ignoring me, he presses on. “You could try being nice to her. You know, asking how her day is? Making fun of her less? That shouldn't be challenging, even for a man with as little experience getting to know women as yourself.”

“I don’t make fun of her,” I protest. “And trust me, I have no problem getting to know women.”

“Banging them in the back of your truck doesn’t count, H. Nice try. I seem to recall you making fun of Emma’s reading glasses once upon a time. In fact, you called them the ‘old librarian kind, and not the hot style.’ You said that to her face, man. It’s not your business what she wears. Women are free to express themselves without listening to the opinions of men.”

I’m sure he’s right. He’s the expert at understanding women. I, however, prefer physical interaction and fucking over talking and thinking about the unknowable future. At the end of the night after a casual hook-up, the woman and I go our separate ways, parting on cordial terms, a pleased smile on their faces. I set boundaries early and communicate with them up front that I won’t be falling in love with them or becoming their Romeo.

That’s reserved for other guys. Guys like Noah.

Guys who will buy them flowers and sweep them off their feet. Guys who will remember favorite pizza toppings and colors, anxiously asking when they can meet the family or exchange apartment keys.

Not me. I want nothing to do with that shit.

The doors chime open and we exit onto the lobby floor, my muscles relaxing as we step away from the scene of my crime. We walk two blocks to the best Ramen restaurant in town, the light breeze filtering through the air calming me down, nerves unspooling like thread. On a typical day, my only glimpse of the sunshine is out of my large window when I’m pacing on the phone with a client. I make it to the office just as the sun is rising, and I rarely leave until after sunset.

These brief moments outside the box of gloom and despair become some of the best; a blessed reprieve from the monotony of a desk job. Moments like vitamin D slowly infiltrating my chilled blood. The sound of laughter and happiness. Smells other than whiteout and hours-old coffee beans.

It’s cathartic.