Free Another Man Will by Daaimah S. Poole Page A

She gave me his stats as we danced over in his direction. “He is a doctor in the neonatal department at CHOP with Zyeed. A great guy and very single.”
    The closer we got up on him, the less attractive he became. He was shorter than me, pudgy in the gut, and had two prominent cowlicks in the front of his hair, but Leah did say he was a neonatal doctor. Plus, it was too late to avoid him, because she was already introducing us.
    â€œDana, this is Lavar. Lavar, Dana.”
    â€œHi. Nice to meet you, Dana.”
    â€œNice to meet you, as well,” I responded.
    Leah then awkwardly pushed us together and told us to dance. I got the impression I was not his type, because he never made eye contact with me and didn’t seem that interested.
    â€œSo here, Dana. Take my card and call me. I’m not much of a dancer, but enjoy,” he said instead of taking me to the dance floor.
    â€œI will.” I placed his card in my purse and took my seat back at my table.
    No sooner had I sat than I gazed across the room, and who did I see on the dance floor, Michael Jacksoning with a group of blondes and one brunette? I looked over at him and thought, So you don’t know how to dance, huh? He must have felt me staring, because he glanced over in my direction and scrunched his shoulders up and kept dancing.
    â€œSo what do you think?” Leah asked when she came over to my table again.
    â€œI don’t think I’m his type.”
    â€œReally? Why do you say that?”
    I pointed to him dancing on the dance floor with the ring of girls.
    â€œOh.”
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    After the reception, I wasn’t ready to go home yet, so I stopped over at Tiffany’s cozy two-bedroom apartment. I entered her creatively decorated, comfy home and we walked straight to her kitchen area.
    â€œYou want a glass of wine or pasta salad?”
    â€œNo, I’m not hungry, but I will take a glass of wine.”
    Tiffany reached inside her pine wood cabinets and grabbed two glasses and began to pour us glasses of Moscato. “You look nice. Where are you coming from?”
    â€œThe wedding of my friend, Reshma, from work.”
    â€œSomeone else at your job got married?”
    â€œYup. In the last year three people married. Four, if you count the gay guy Leonard’s commitment ceremony.”
    â€œEveryone is getting married, and every man I meet has some type of issues. Nice,” Tiffany grumbled.
    â€œWhat happened with Mr. Art Guy?”
    â€œWell, what happened was his apartment. I know this place isn’t huge, but I stepped inside his and honestly, my kitchen is bigger than his entire place. I literally can extend my arms out and I am able to touch his walls. So I’m looking around, and then I see he had his goals on the wall. That was nice, I suppose. But you need more than goals on a wall. You need to put those goals into action. That might help, right? While I was looking around his place, I wanted to say to him, ‘You have a college degree, no car, and no children. Where is your money?’ ”
    â€œMaybe he is paying back his student loans, and you know artists don’t make that much in the beginning,” I said with a shrug.
    â€œThen he needs a second job, maybe even a third. And now I’m looking back at all that romantic stuff, like the free jazz festival and the open mic poetry night. He wasn’t being romantic. He was just taking me on broke dates. And I just couldn’t tolerate his being broke anymore. And plus, I was tired of him calling me queen. So I just told him not to call me anymore.”
    â€œYou’re mad at him for calling you queen? You are hilarious,” I told her.
    â€œNo, I’m not being funny. I’m just being real. I just want to meet someone who is not crazy with issues, is not strapped for cash, or does not have a litter of kids.”
    â€œWell, you’re not alone. Speaking of issues, I had to accompany Crystal