I told my friend Beth this was the last time. The absolute final shot at setting me up with one of her single in the city friends. Where did she even meet these idiots? It continued to blow my mind how many women in their late twenties moved to New York City actually thinking it was like some television show, where they’d be living in a fabulous apartment, working some low level shit job because they weren’t qualified to do anything, and that they’d somehow be shopping for Christian Louboutin shoes for fun. As I listened to my latest blind date tell me that she was trying to get on the waitlist for some new restaurant I didn’t care one iota about, my mind drifted off to where I’d rather be. Anywhere, of course, but mostly writing. I wanted to write novels. Spy novels, to be more precise.

I was working as a marketing executive for a large firm in New York City, the job I’d always wanted. It paid great, the benefits were amazing. I had flexibility and creative license most of the time, but I was terrifically bored. Beth, my college roommate, suggested that I spent too much time working, and not enough time meeting great girls I could build a life with. I wasn’t really sure what that meant. Build a life. Wasn’t what I had a life, technically? I’m sure she meant kids, house in the suburbs, that kind of shit, but that wasn’t my dream.

What was my dream? I didn’t know at the moment, but it definitely wasn’t to settle into some cookie-cutter life. Becoming rich and famous wasn’t my jam either. It wasn’t that I was looking for notoriety or anything of the sort, but I was looking for passion. The kind of passion that drives you every day. I didn’t think that the botoxed blonde sitting across from me even had a passion, unless you counted designer clothing. When I asked her the last book she read, she laughed, and honestly thought I was joking.

“Oh that’s too funny!” she exclaimed.

Scrunching my brows, I replied, “What’s funny?”

“I haven’t read a book since junior high. Who has time to read with all the parties and things to do in the city,” she cackled.

“I read for an hour every day, actually,” I replied curtly. I wasn’t being polite, and that’s not the kind of guy I usually am, but I couldn’t believe Beth would think that I’d like anything about this girl. I found her incessant giggling and lack of substance ugly and off-putting.

With a surprised look, she asked, “What on earth do you read?” as if no adult had ever read a fucking book in their life.

“I read a lot of crime novels, as well as professional and personal development books.” I could see she didn’t know what that meant, so I continued, “I’m interested in growing as a person every day. Learning how to live a fuller, more joyful, life. Finding ways to manifest positivity. I read about people who have changed their life for the better by finding their passions and leaving the bullshit behind them.” I paused, waiting for her feedback. I wasn’t usually that honest, but this was the last straw for me.

She stared blankly at me, her mouth slightly open. “Oh, that’s cool,” she said dryly.

That was it. I was done.

Standing up, I pulled my wallet out and dropped enough money to cover our drinks and a taxi home if she needed it. “I’m gonna head out. This just isn’t going to work.”

Appalled by my behavior—apparently, she’d never been rejected before—she sneered at me. “Are you serious? You’re leaving?”

I leaned down and looked her dead in the eyes. “Rachel? It is Rachel, right? I have time for many, many things, like reading, working, and even dating. But I have zero time for people whose greatest ambition in life is to get reservations at the latest fancy restaurant in town, that where they’re only going to go home and throw up what they ingested anyway. Lovely to meet you.”

Completely flabbergasted by this, she was seething. “How dare you. I—”

I interrupted her before walking away and not looking back. “Good luck finding Mr. Right, Rachel. I’m not him.”

I could hear her muttering under her breath, and while I felt a little bit bad about leaving her with an insult in such a way—it wasn’t very gentlemanly of me—I just couldn’t stand one more moment with her. Watching her forehead stay perfectly still, while her over-plumped lips continued to yap drivel. I simply couldn’t stand it; it felt like moments of my life were slipping away into the abyss as she rambled.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dialed Beth.

“Already?” she said, without even a greeting.

“Listen, do you even know me? Like, what on earth would make you think I would like anything about that girl?”

“You don’t have to marry her, Carter!” she yelled at me. “You could have enjoyed a lovely evening together.”

“Did you really think I was going to stick my dick in that? Honestly?” Beth knew me better than that. In fact, I was pretty sure this was the last single friend she had to set me up with, and it was grasping at straws to begin with.

“Well, okay, she’s not the smartest girl in New York City. I get that, but she’s very pretty?” she said, as if it were a question.

“My standards are a little bit higher than that. What were you thinking?”

“Truth?”

“Yes. Truth, please.”

“I was thinking you needed to get laid. And she’s definitely up for that. That’s all I got. You seem pent up. Aggravated and shit, lately. I figured a good fucking might perk you up?” She started to laugh, in turn, making me laugh as well.

“I can’t with you,” I chuckled. “While I appreciate you looking out for my pent up frustrations and all, you’re off the job. No more set-ups. I’m done. I can’t do it anymore.”

“I don’t want you to end up all alone, Carter. Everyone needs someone.”

Contemplating what she said, I didn’t necessarily disagree, but I wasn’t interested in the trivial bullshit that most women my age were still focusing on. You’d think in the twenty-first century, thirty-year-old women would be more evolved. They’d stop husband-hunting. It’s like you could actually hear the clock ticking in their heads as their biological clocks reverberated through them. I’ve never considered life a race. For me, it’s a journey, and about making the most of the experiences and opportunities around me. A lost art, apparently.

“I won’t be alone forever, Beth. When it happens, it happens. I’ve got bigger goals than finding someone right now, ok?”

“Alright, alright. I’m officially on hiatus as your matchmaker,” she huffed.

“You’re retired, Beth,” I replied with a grin.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yep, I’ll be at the party, not to worry.”

“Ok, love you, Carter.”

“Love you back,” I said as I hung up.

Beth and her fiancé, Mike, were hosting a dinner party the following evening. They’d just moved into a pretty nice condo in the city, they both did quite well in their careers, and enjoyed having people over to share in what they’d been working for. It was one of the reasons Beth and I had always stayed so close. She was wealthy on her own, as was Mike, but they weren’t superficial at all. In fact, they were constantly giving, sharing, and trying to help other people. They were just good people, and I needed more like them in my life. How they’d been so lucky to have found each other continued to amaze me.

As I walked home, a slight chill in the air ran through me. Fall was definitely upon us in the city, and it was going to be a cold winter. Being from upstate New York, I was used to it, although summers never seemed to last long enough for me. The remainder of my long walk home, I considered what goals in my life needed re-evaluation. I wasn’t feeling as fulfilled as I wanted to be, but surely hunting for a relationship wouldn’t bring me the joy and satiation forlife I was craving.