Fixer uppers

I'm standing in the middle of my friend Dave's kitchen.

Dave is technically a client but not really. He stays home to talk to me while I clean his place; I'm not sure if I should charge him extra for voyeurism or not charge him at all in exchange for the amateur psychiatry.

So I'm standing in the kitchen and we're pondering my dating status. "Well, what are your prospects?"

"Really none," I answer. " There are a few strays from the last go around but nothing that looks super attractive. Maybe one I could recycle."

"Recycle? Who?"

"Well Rick, but I'm not to sure about that."

"Why not?"

"We've been talking some so I think he might be interested. But I have a bad feeling." Insert Dave's raised eyebrow here. "Well I've told him about all of the crap that been going on lately with my parents, and the car, and health insurance and work and everything and he's really been a great listener. But I kind of feel like he just wants to "fix" me. And I'm not real comfortable with that idea. I'm a grown woman; I don't need fixing or anybody to do it for me."

Dave is twice divorced so he knows better that to dispute whether I do indeed need fixing or not. Instead he goes for the obvious, "Fix all those things yourself. Then go see about him."

As with everything in my life the advice and learning experiences are non sequitur. Sometimes I even need to be told twice. Things can break or be fixed without my knowledge.