Free Husband Hunters by Genevieve Gannon

Clementine said. ‘All of the men who wanted marriage and children were weeded out by quick-witted girls ten years ago, and all we’re left with are the players, who are only getting worse because they’re more in demand.’
    ‘Junk male,’ Daniela nodded. ‘Spam that indiscriminately fills inboxes.’
    ‘And is likely to give you a virus,’ said Clem.
    Annabel laughed and swirled her drink around in her glass. ‘I read an article that said women are being too picky. Historically, we’re conditioned to marry up. Until recently the only way a woman could improve her status was through marriage, and popular culture’s only role models were Cinderellas. Elizabeth Bennet was rescued from ruin by a man. Even Carrie Bradshaw marries someone far wealthier than she is. The problem is that with half the professional positions being filled by women, there aren’t enough of these so-called heroes to go around. The piece urged women like us to stop being so elitist.’
    ‘Elitist?’ said Clem, as she contemplated the fact that her most successful relationship of late was with a poster.
    ‘I don’t want to settle,’ said Daniela. ‘I don’t demand to be a kept woman who gets a side of diamonds with breakfast in bed every morning, but nor do I want to marry an unemployed boob with halitosis just because I fear being alone.’
    ‘Do you think this is a new phenomenon?’ Clementine hollered. ‘This isn’t new. Thousands of years ago everybody would have gone to some big rock on Friday nights to eat berries after a long week of hunting and gathering. The men would have tried to get the women to go back to their cave by complimenting their thick winter leg hair and promising to take them out for a nice piece of speared roo. Afterwards the women would have waited all week to get a smoke signal from the men, but it would never have come. And their friends would have said, “Oh, he’s probably just lost his flint.” But they all would have known he was out chasing another gatherer who wore a shorter animal skin.’
    ‘The greedy bastards.’ Daniela shook her head.
    ‘We have to be ruthless.’ Clementine slammed her glass down. ‘Phase one,’ she said, writing in capital letters across her notebook. ‘What’s our first move?’
    ‘We have to find some men,’ said Annabel.
    ‘Right, and how are we going to do that? Dani, what do you think? You know where men go.’
    Dani shrugged. ‘All the usual places. I guess bars are a good place to start.’
    They looked around. Pucci’s customers were mostly women and gay men. There was a booth of much older gentlemen, and two waiters in pink and green shirts unbuttoned to show hairy chests.
    ‘Bars that aren’t modelled on a kitsch fashion movement,’ Dani added.
    ‘Exactly.’ Clementine started a list. ‘We can’t just go to any bar. We have to be more targeted. Bars near sports stadiums, bars near large consulting firms …’
    At that moment, four young blonde women entered Pucci. Daniela, Clementine and Annabel watched as they moved across the room and slid into a booth. Every woman scrutinised their shoes, legs and jewellery. Every man sat up a little bit straighter.
    ‘Bars that aren’t popular with hot twenty-one-year-olds,’ said Daniela.
    Other options they came up with were rugby games, the beach, public transport — especially the ferry — galleries and beer gardens. ‘We need to place ourselves in the path of good men,’ Clementine said. ‘It’s all about proximity. Regular contact is statistically the number one reason people fall in love.’
    ‘But this is what I’ve been saying,’ Dani persisted. ‘I’m not single because I don’t know where to find men. I’m single because they don’t seem interested in me.’
    ‘That’s why we have phase two,’ Clem said. ‘The pitch.’
    Annabel smiled. ‘If we’re going to be pitching, maybe we need to approach it the way you would business networking. Forming new professional