Per John Gray, men are from Mars, women are from Venus.
Louis had been on 3 of the 5 dates he had lined up and he swore he didn’t get women. He had found some excellent choices for a companion in life, powerful women with notable accomplishments in their respective fields. They clicked, but there wasn’t any chemistry there. He was frustrated. These women albeit beautiful were robots. They were too rehearsed, too polished and they knew what they wanted and were out to get it, rather him.
His first date went okay. They talked about the state of the economy, his work, her work and anything and everything there was to talk about pertaining to business. He felt like he was talking to a client. He enjoyed himself for the first 30 minutes, but it went downhill pretty fast and soon enough he wanted to strangle himself using his tie.
His second date was with a marine biologist. He had loved the idea of having an environmentalist for a wife. It was something that would boost his image and made him look like he was a better person than he truly was. But one wrong move and she had called him a schmuck. It didn’t seem like the biggest deal in the world that he left a discarded food packaging at the beach, but she had given him an hours worth of lecture on how an entire habitat could have died because of what he did.
His third date was just as witty as the last two. Why he didn’t like her? He had no clue. She was probably just too much like him that he had lost interest in her, he thought. He didn’t want a carbon copy of him agreeing with everything he said. He wanted to engage in verbal acrobatics and have someone with a slightly different point of view, someone who could maybe even challenge him.
His fourth date, he had shamefully stood the poor girl up. He had been 5 minutes late for their date because of a minor snafu with the Heifer Brown deposition. When he went into the restaurant the maître d pointed to his date. She had been wearing a colourful sweater with a ragdoll cat printed in front and had her hair up in a messy bun. She looked like a crazy cat lady, so Louis just decided to avoid that train wreck altogether.
“It’s too bad she’s crazy! She had the most piercing blue eyes,” he thought.
The next day, he sat on his chair patiently waiting for date number five to arrive. In paper, he was perfect for Louis. She had trained as a Prima Ballerina with Suzanne Farrell. As a child prodigy who worked for more than a decade, she was now at the retirement age of 29 and wanting to settle down.
“Harold!” Louis asked in bewilderment. He was clearly paying him too much and underworking him if he could afford to go to a fancy place like this, Louis thought.“What are you doing here?” He continued his one-liner method of questioning.
“Mike told me, that Harvey said that this was a celebratory dinner with you for a job well done with the Marshall case and I was getting a raise.” He said nervously sensing animosity in Louis’s tone.
“Get out!” Louis screamed pointing at the door.
He fixed his suit. Trying to loosen the wrinkles and waited for a good hour until he realized that there was no date number five. Harvey must have found out about his dating profile and setup a bogus account. Defeated, he asked for the check and paid for the wine he ordered.
‘So much for Mrs. Louis Litt! This was probably karma for ditching the cat lady and for all the atrocious things I’ve done,’ he thought.
‘I guess I could be a monk, if this lawyer thing doesn’t pan out. Dad seems to think that my hair is thinning anyway.’ he continued kicking the dirt as he walked to his car.
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