Hangnail

            “I’ve sworn off women,” said Albert.

Albert put his beer down and looked at me. I looked away from the TV hockey

game and blinked at him.

            “I’m sick of it man. I mean it. I do everything I can to be a pretty wonderful guy and yet here I am sitting at the bar with you on a Friday night instead of being with a girlfriend. No offense,” added Albert.

I nodded and took another sip from my beer. It was going to be on of those nights.

I had been waiting for it since Albert walked into the bar and sat next to me. We hadn’t planned to meet up. I was only there to have a few drinks before heading home and having some dinner. We worked in the same building and saw each other every once in a while in the lobby or the elevators, but we weren’t much more than acquaintances. Whenever we did run into each other at happy hour he would dive into his problems with the fairer sex. It wasn’t really his fault and I didn’t blame him. He did seem a like a nice guy. He was just terribly unlucky with women.

            “Can’t be that bad this time,” I said.

            “Oh, man, you wouldn’t believe it. I was seeing this woman, I really liked her too, but I was seeing her for a while and ‘BAM’, she just suddenly started not wanting to be around me. I didn’t even do anything. In fact, I was overly nice to this one,” said Albert.

            “That’s unfortunate,” I said.

            “You’re telling me. I just don’t get it man. So, I’m done. No more internet dating. No more trying to meet women at bars or weddings or funerals. I’m done,” said Albert.

            I looked at my beer on the bar and wished it had less in it than it did. It was still quite full and I felt bad about walking away from a nearly full beer. If there was only a little left in it I wouldn’t feel too awful about patting Albert on the back and just walking away. But I felt trapped and obligated to drink more of my beer and listen to Albert.

            “I tell you man. Women? I haven’t any idea what they want anyway. Do they want to be treated like crap? Do they want sensitive and strong? Do they want funny and emotional? Do they want a bad boy or a good guy? I’ve been all those things and none seem to work,” said Albert.

            I nodded knowing there really was no easy answer. I wasn’t all that hot in the woman department either at the moment. I’d been where Albert is. I was still there too. Suffering as a single man in a coupled world.

            “If I knew what women wanted I’d tell you Albert. Frankly, I don’t know either,” I said.

            “It’s irritating. Like a hangnail,” said Albert.

            “A hangnail?”

            “Yeah. Trying to meet a woman to have a relationship with is like having a hangnail,” said Albert.

            “I don’t think I get your meaning,” I said.

            Albert leaned toward me as if this was some great philosophy he’d worked out. He was nearly whispering as he explained.

            “Meeting women is like that hangnail that you just can’t seem to reach, right on the edge of your fingernail. You don’t really know how it got there, but there it is. You try and pick at it a little bit but you just can’t seem to get it. Even when you use your teeth to try and bite at it, but you just can’t seem to get it. So you keep working at it. No matter what else is going on around you. Could be driving in your car, could be in an important business meeting. You keep trying to get that little tiny bit of skin. It becomes sort of a momentary obsession, this little annoying flap of skin and if you don’t pull it off it’ll just drive you absolutely batshit crazy. Then you do get it. You finally pull it off and you know what happens,” said Albert.

            “What happens,” I asked.

            “You pulled too hard and now you’re bleeding. I mean, you got what you wanted, you got that flap of skin, but now it hurts and you’re bleeding,” said Albert.

            Albert took a sip from his drink and looked around the bar. I contemplated his theory and thought there might be something to it. I looked at my own fingernails.

            “Look at her. Now she’s a fox,” said Albert as he nudged me on the arm.

            I looked over to where Albert was gesturing toward a beautiful woman in her after work finery. Tights and tall boots, shape and bearing, she was sexy and confident. I looked away and knew that I’d never have a shot with her.

            “I’m going to talk to her,” said Albert, “have a good weekend man”.

            He got up from the bar stool and started heading her way. I looked back at my fingernails and decided that I was off women too. For a little while.