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somebody else in the position to hate me as much as I hate her. And I don’t need a man to define who I am.
    “You’re all wrong.” I point my finger at every single woman in the room. “Each and every one of you is wrong .” Whew. That felt good. “I don’t move on the minute a man starts to show commitment and trust. I simply don’t have time in my life for a full-time relationship and I don’t want anyone getting attached. I’ve hurt no one in my process.”
    “Then why do you even run this group anymore?” Monica throws her hands in the air. She has plenty to say tonight, that’s for sure. She scratches her head, and curls her nose up. “Your goal for us seems to have shifted from let’s find out why we can’t commit and make a change, to let’s all sit around and chat and keep going as we are.” She rises from her chair and slides her hands into her back pockets. “I’m thinking about leaving the group.”
    “What?” We all respond in unison as she turns and moves to the refreshment table. “You can’t ditch us.” I won’t have it. If there is one thing we all are committed to, it’s Dating for Decades.
    Monica spins around and high-tails it back to her chair, plopping down and slamming her hands to her knees. “You never talk to us, Cassie. We share all of our ups and downs and you’re never short of an opinion. We always listen to you. You never lend an ear to us. We’re supposed to be a team here, a safe circle to discuss anything and support each other. We want to help you. I’m just …” She closes her eyes as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m just tired of this.”
    “She’s right, Cassie.” Cheyenne leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. “You’re not modeling the same behavior as us. To ask us to take your words into consideration and ignore ours is counter-productive.”
    I couldn’t be any different from the women in this group. Our personalities are as different as night and day. Well, maybe they’re the oil and I’m the vinegar. We can mesh together for a short time, but eventually we separate and our differences are apparent. Cheyenne takes one psychology class at the local college and suddenly she’s an expert. Under normal circumstances, these women and I would never be in the same room together. Still, even if we’re not committed to any man in our lives, we’re committed to each other in a way. I should value the fact that they want to help me but I really don’t think I need any. I’m irritated at this jackass who came into my job with full intention to take over the first chance he’s given, I’m sure.
    “You’re right. I’m sorry.” At this point, I’ll agree with them. They may be onto something, but I’m not buying into it quite yet. I’m not some woman broken by my past, my nonexistent relationship with my mother affecting my ability to maintain a long-term connection with someone. I’m not a made-for-TV movie. None of us are, so we should stop pretending in the final twenty minutes of the program a miraculous change will occur. “Let’s move on. Does anyone else want to share?”
    I want to push the focus off me, and if I’m lucky, Monica will forget her consideration to leave. I brought this group together, and I don’t want anything to tear it apart. Every Thursday these women are here for me, and me for them, no matter what.
    A knock on the door interrupts Noelle before she begins to speak. A rare find around here, a man of medium height with unmanaged dark hair enters the room. His flannel shirt and ripped jeans turn me off right away. This isn’t a rodeo. “Can I help you find something?” Every once in a while a stray stumbles into our meeting room. We direct him to the AA meeting down the hall.
    He looks down on a sheet of paper. “Is this the Dating for Decades group?”
    All heads turn to him. “Yes,” I answer. “Are you looking for someone?” A man has never stepped foot into our territory on purpose.