Authors: Cupideros
“I can’t call you Arnold either.” I’m not sure why I started to annoy him. This was like a frightening scene out of early Pride and Prejudice. All I knew was protecting my heart at all costs needed some logic.
“You fell in love with an Arnold before?”
“One, Arnold is some name you just made up to test me. And PR Man sounds protective like a special shining knight. I need to be around a responsible man at this time in my life.”
“That’s take some getting used to.”
“Being a shining knight or being called PR Man?”
“It’s not every day I tell someone to call me by my job title for a year, Megan.”
“I’m comfortable with it.”
“Apparently so.”
I noticed PR Man was single. Not one couple picture in his office. Now that I had insisted on calling him PR Man, I couldn’t go backwards and ask why a handsome healthy male like him wasn’t married. Besides the statue of the Casablanca stars leaving Paris on that fateful day, no references of love graced PR Man’s office. On one hand, that gave me peace of mind. On the other, I was annoyed. He actually
was
attractive. Not the overbearing sort of alpha man I normally meet.
“Tell me a little about Megan Bedrosian.”
“Well Mr. PR Man, Megan Bedrosian is very busy running her catering business. She spent eight years as a Librarian at Joinrite Public Library. She planned on moving up and becoming director, but the director lived on and on and on. So after about eight years, three of being in charge of library development and acquisitions, I decided to be my own boss. Part-time.
I did this and worked because we have random days off from the library. It was hard at first; then I realized I liked seeing the faces of women and men smashing their faces using my cake dough. And I never looked back. I have enough work to keep me busy. I want to travel to Europe and Flanders and other places, invest more money in new Megan Bedrosian cake shops. I don’t need a man to live a fulfilling life. I know all the fairytales and romantic movies suggest that…I just disagree.
No one says men need a wife to live a fulfilling life. So why should a woman have-to-have a man to be complete? Men need someone to hold them, as much as women do, especially down there.” I don’t know where that came from “the down there” part. I never intended to talk about sex and here he was. Smooth, calm non-alpha male trying to make me believe in dreams again.
“I don’t need a woman to feel complete. And I am not gay. I refuse to bring my romantic life to work. I believe in a Spartan attitude at work. Work is for work. Outside work is for play and entertainment.”
“But even if you were gay, the statement still holds. Men need someone to hold them, as much as women do...” I made a certain going on gesture, rolling my forefinger over and over from the side, and PR Man quickly nodded.”
“I’ve dated several girls. None of them possessed that true independent spirit.” PR Man sat quiet. “He hopped up and went to a bookcase in his office. PR Man opened a magazine he pulled off the shelf. “Yes. I think this will work nicely. He sat back down and turned the magazine ad around for me to see.”
I saw a woman riding a huge white steed in a wedding dress. Then I saw in the foreground, on the opposite side, a man riding on a black steed. Both the steed and man were dripping the accoutrements of steels armor.
“That’s almost romantic.”
“An ad for a perfume. But I’m suggesting we tweak it a bit. Show you in a print ad riding away from your knight in shining armor. The ad caption reading,
“She said, No.” and He heard “yes.”
Your wedding gown will be ripped off the shoulder like so—and PR Man yanked on my short sleeve of my yellow at the knee-length dress. Regardless of who sees this one they’re going be depressed and two rethink those fantasies.”
The odd turning of female fantasies on its head might work. Not because of shock value, but because of bitter irony. The males and females of this world don’t understand one another very well. They get together by annoying and fighting for the radar attention of another.”
“You sound like the perfect Public Relations Specialist for this campaign,” I said. I picked up my funny caricature drawing. “PR Man how about putting, ‘Never Marry’ pouring out of this treasure box, too?”
“Good.” He sketched that in.
“Always uses condoms.” I suggested.
PR Man furiously etched more graphic designs of charcoal into the paper pad. Several droopy used condoms on the left and right side of the treasure box lay over the edges.
I grew more excited. This became fun, trashing romance. “A copy of Casablanca burning in the back ground, just enough so you know the title and see the main characters.”
“Fantastic!” He drew and drew and erased a couple of times. He flashed me the funny ad. “Casablanca my favorite movie, but all’s fair in an advertising campaign.”
I finally relaxed. He showed me true grit. He was putting everything into helping me stay single. I believed in all my heart, one year from now I’d meet Cynthia and Olivia at a restaurant and we’d toast to my victory over a bottle of red wine.
“From the way this is advancing, I am very pleased, PR Man.” I wanted to hug him. I actually was having a conversation without a man trying to get in my pants or get my private cell number to get inside my pants.
“Advertising is all about drawing in and teasing the target audience; giving the target market a singular perspective. Like in the big wrap up scene in Casablanca, you don’t ask for more. You accept the Rick and Ilsa never end up together. That Rick’s all right with that.”
I crossed my legs and tossed back my head laughing. “You have a very funny sense of humor. I always laughed at the ending. Kind of corny. But yes, leaves no questions open.
“Always good to shore up your weaknesses; defense of your weaknesses always pays off.” PR Man paused. He took a big deep breath. He placed his left hand on top of his right. “Don’t be shocked; I’m asking you this for purely professional reasons.”
I forced myself to sit at attention. It always paid to sit at attention in my ballerina classes. I learned so much by carefully listening to the instructor as a child. “I’m ready, PR Man.”
He took the sketch pad again and flipped the page. “The perfect man qualities are? You complete that sentence.”
Okay. Now my little girl came out and wanted to spill every notion of romance every subscribed to girls, even if the girl never held those notions in the least. “PR Man is now trying to becoming my psychologist or worse my psychiatrist?”
“No professional defense of weaknesses.” He held the sketch pad up over his heart.
I didn’t like the symbolism of being so close to him. Him hugging me, but I reverse course and realize the accidental symbolism meant zilch. PR Man was a professional. He even accepted me calling him PR Man. “He’s attractive, patient. He allows me to be independent. Never complains about wanting travel. Often he will simply listen to me and not comment. Of course, he nods appreciatively informing me he’s still listening. I hate to say the humor thing, because every girl says that. What does a sense of humor really mean? I don’t know. I haven’t figured that one out yet.”
“Major weakness. The mysterious male humor trait.”
“He makes money. I can’t support a man. I’m not a progressive feminist.”
“Progressive. I thought there only three waves of feminism existed.” He didn’t look up but kept writing on the sketch pad.
“Feminist, Post Feminist, New Wave Feminism.”
“Don’t worry about it. He went to a huge feminist history book. That thing must have been double the size of the Webster Unabridged. “This has got everything important women have ever said.”
I grew a little nervous. I said, “Women have said a lot of important things. Like try to become the woman you want to be and the right man will magically show up. Of course, the right man then wants you to quit your job, wash the dishes and raise the two point one-quarter children and paint the white picket fence and feed the dog and cat before cooking him a big dinner.”
“You’re crazy, Megan. This is going to be a great campaign. Can I quote you for a television spot using that?”
“What’s wrong with radio spots? I’d love to see how Newly-Married Cynthia will handle it.” I laughed. Gosh. I never thought of this as a competition between friends. This prophylactic exercise was going to be worth every penny spent.
“Toss up. Radio or Television. I’d love to see you delivering those lines. Just like you did.”
“Wow. You think I’d come across on television well?”
“Sure.” PR Man hopped up and turned out the lights. He pressed a button a huge screen dropped down on the opposite of the wall covering the landscape. Then I watched myself delivering those lines.
PR Man said, “Imagine you’ve come home from a long day, your heels in your hand and a little cake mix on your forehead, on the other side of your sandy blonde right hair bang. You flop down on the couch and. He pressed a button on his cell phone:
My ever smiling face covered the big white screen in the darkness. “Try to become the woman you want to be and the right man will magically show up. Of course, the right man then wants you to quit your job, wash the dishes and raise the two point one-quarter children and paint the white picket fence and feed the dog and cat before cooking him a big dinner.”
My jaw dropped open and if all the leaves of fall blew inside my mouth, I’d never notice them. “Uhm.....That—was really great.”
“You signed the press release.”
I nodded. “That I did. PR Man, can you at least give me a head’s up before you do the candid camera thing?”
PR Man snapped up the white screen and the peaceful landscape reappeared. He moved and flipped the light switch back on. “I’ve got some other amazing video of powerful, moving I don’t want to be married quotes.”
I became nervous. I wanted to ask show me more. I hadn’t revealed any breasts of boobs, but where else did PR Man hope my signed press release applied? “Not in or from the bathroom.”
“You haven’t used the bathroom yet?” He said puzzled.
“PR Man! I mean. You don’t intend that press release to apply to intimate places?”
“No. Just this office.”
“Good then remind me to never slip up and sleep with you.”
“We solved that problem all ready. No sex between you and me; no relationship; everything is strictly business. I just keep you from marrying by accident, against your will power, or by fatigue or an overwhelming amount of male attention.”
“That was very complete, PR Man.” I pulled my bang off my right eye to make sure no other surprises lay hidden in the room. For better or worse, if this worked. No one might marry me for the next five years.
“Video is very convincing. People should not believe it just because something appears on a visual screen. I believe the castle is more heavily guarded now.”
“I refused to consider myself a piece of meat for men. Being a piece of brick and mortar somehow sounds better though. More secure.”
“And you should be. What you possess, men desire—even when they deny it. Even when we men say we don’t want a woman, we want one. Every man in a suit or clothes is reduced to his normal humanity at some point. Only the wise and enlightened can truly elude her charms of attraction. Woman, that creature of superior morality. Even more so when men think a woman is not their type of wife, they still want her. Quick finish this sentence. I want to tell the truth faster ____?”
“Sexually.” I threw my hand over my mouth. “PR Man you’re deliberately pushing my romantic buttons. Weakening me.”
PR Man rose from behind his desk and walked around my chair. His eyes focused in a characteristic daze on the heavens. He marched around behind me. “Weakening you, so as to strengthen your resolve. You must be heartless, ruthless, take no prisoners of the male heart—for at least one year’s time. We don’t have the luxury of waiting for you to learn from mistakes of the heart.