Free How to Be Single by Liz Tuccillo

understand what any of it means anymore, single, marriage, any of it. No?”
    I didn’t know exactly what he was talking about. “I live in America. We don’t really know what’s going on all over the world.”
    â€œWell, then it is perfect that you are taking this trip, isn’t it?” he said, his blue eyes sparkling at me. “Have dinner with me. I will explain to you more. I love discussing these things.”
    Startled, I turned to Clara to see if I had heard him wrong. Clara laughed. “I told you, he has a lot to say on the subject.” I didn’t know how to respond. Thomas took that as a yes, and I guess it was.
    â€œCome. I’ll take you to another club of mine.”

    We got out of Thomas’s car and walked a half a block to a nondescript town house. He pressed the buzzer and a gentleman in a suit and tie answered the door. He greeted Thomas deferentially and ushered us into a dark, elegant room with a long wooden bar and crystal chandelier. Opposite the bar, well-dressed people were seated eating dinner and drinking champagne on black leather banquettes with a golden brass railing separating them from the rest of the room.
    â€œThis is your place as well?” I asked, impressed.
    â€œIt is.”
    â€œWell, this is quite different from men in g-strings and lukewarm tortellini,” I joked. We sat down at a little banquette in the corner.
    â€œYes,” Thomas said, smiling as if he had a secret. I wasn’t quite sure what was happening; why Thomas had invited me out or what we were doing there. But who really cared? This was a fantastic way to spend my first night in Paris. As the champagne arrived, I dove right in.
    â€œSo, was there anything else mildly insulting you wanted to say about American single women? Or were you done?” I was trying to be sassy but cute.
    Thomas shook his head and laughed. “I’m sorry if you found me insulting. I will try and behave myself from now on.” He looked around the club. “I invited you here to give you a different perspective. To show you that everyone is trying to figure it out. There are no easy answers to any of it.”
    â€œWow. In the few minutes you’ve known me, I’ve shown myself to be that ignorant? Thank you for being so concerned with my world perspective.”
    â€œWe French have to do what we can.” Thomas looked me straight in the eyes and smiled. I blushed. I couldn’t help it, but I did. He was fantastic.
    â€œFor instance, I have an open marriage.”
    â€œExcuse me?” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
    â€œYes. An open marriage, is how I think you Americans describe it.”
    â€œOh. That’s interesting.”
    â€œIt’s one way to go, to deal with this problem.”
    â€œWhat problem?” I asked. The waiter brought us tiny cups of some kind of thick, warm amuse-bouche soup.
    â€œOf boredom, of stagnation, of resentment.”
    â€œAnd you solve that by sleeping with other people?”
    â€œNo. We solve that by making no rules for ourselves. By being open to life. When you get married, you tell each other that from that day forward, you will never be allowed to have sex with someone else, to feel passion, to explore a spark, an attraction. You are beginning the murder of a part of your essential nature. The part that keeps you alive.”
    â€œBut…doesn’t that make things complicated?”
    â€œYes, sometimes very much so. But as I said, that is reality. That is life.”
    â€œI don’t understand. Do you just say, ‘Hey, honey, I’m going out to have sex with someone else, see you later…’”
    â€œNo. We are polite. You must be polite. But for instance, right now I know my wife has a boyfriend. He is not so important to her; she sees him once a week or less. If it truly bothered me, she would be done with him.”
    â€œBut it doesn’t bother