Free Another Man Will by Daaimah S. Poole Page B

to court because her awful baby dad said he is not the father.”
    â€œWhat? I swear, all these men are sad. It seems like either they were raised by a no-good-ass manipulative mom, and now they don’t trust women, or they didn’t have a father figure to show them how to be a good man. I don’t know what we are going to do. I really want a husband by thirty, and now I only have, like, a year and a half left.”
    â€œIt will happen,” I assured her.
    â€œI hope so, because I don’t understand why I’m still single. I read an article that asked, ‘Would you date yourself?’ And I thought, Of course I would date me. I’m educated, in shape, pretty, and have good credit. I’m not asking for that much. Just that my potential partner comes to the table with just as much or more to offer. Is that too much to ask for?”
    â€œNo, that’s not too much,” I said.
    â€œIt must be. And it’s not like I want someone to come and take care of me. I just want my complement. All he has to do is come into my life and add to what I already have. But has that happened yet?”
    â€œYeah, that would be good,” I agreed.
    â€œIt would be very good,” Tiffany said. “Do you know how many young white teachers at my school come back after summer break every year as Mrs. So-and-So, and I still have the same old last name?”
    â€œYeah, that’s pretty much how it goes. None of my coworkers are going through half of what we go through. They meet a guy, and within six to twelve months they say, ‘Okay, let’s do this. I love you, you love me let’s get married.’ No twist, shouts, or ‘You better marry me or else.’ Then they have a baby, and everyone is celebrating.”
    â€œWell, this other black teacher at my school—I think she is, like, thirty-seven—she said if she doesn’t find a boyfriend, not a husband, by next year, she is getting artificially inseminated.”
    â€œWow. Is that what it has come to? She can’t even find someone to have a baby with? Please do not tell me anymore; that is so sad.” I said between sips of wine.
    â€œIsn’t it? I hope it gets better than this, and soon, because I’m ready to get married. I’m ready for you to be my maid of honor and for us to go wedding-dress shopping,” Tiffany said.
    â€œOkay. First, we need to find you a boyfriend.”
    â€œYeah, that’s true. Well, I’m going to find me a guy one way or another. I think I’m about to date online. You know that website DateFairy.com? I’m going to sign up and meet someone. I don’t care if they are Asian, Mexican or white as long as they are nice, because I’m tired of being single.”
    â€œSo you are going to do the lonely girl online dating thing.”
    â€œYes I am. And it is not lonely; it is smart. Everyone is meeting online now and there isn’t anything wrong with it.”
    â€œI’d still rather meet someone in person. Plus, I don’t think I could date any other races. I’m not sure they would understand and get me.”
    â€œHow do you know that? You never even explored it.”
    â€œNo it is not for me. People online are crazy and it is just weird.”
    â€œI don’t think so and I don’t care what you say; I’m finding me a boyfriend. Watch.”
    â€œI hope you don’t meet a maniac off that crazy website.” I laughed.
    â€œIf I do, at least I’ll have a man.”

C HAPTER 8
    Yvette
    A fter a great mini vacation with my girls, it was time to get back to the job. I was already exhausted by the thought of all the work I’d left. Payroll had to be done by the end of the day, a stack of invoices needed to be paid, and there were over a dozen voice mail messages. The majority were from Edwin Mitchell. He had been out on disability for months and was trying to get his doctor to sign off on another