“You’re Not the Marrying Kind”
“You must realise, Emily, that women like you aren’t the marrying kind,” James said calmly. “Some women are for love and pleasant company. Others keep themselves pure until marriage. Unfortunately, you don’t fall into that category.”
“But what’s wrong with me, Jamie?” Emily looked at him, baffled. “I cook, I keep a lovely home, I take care of myself—what more could a man want?”
“That’s exactly the problem! You’re… used goods, understand? Men don’t marry women like you. They enjoy your company, but when it’s time to settle down, they find a proper, virtuous girl—one who’s untouched, who’ll worship the ground they walk on.” James turned away, smug, and soon began snoring.
Just a week earlier, Emily had been sitting in a café with her friends, discussing her bright future. At thirty, she wasn’t a young girl anymore, but she had built a career, owned a flat in London, drove a nice car, and looked stunning. She was ready for marriage and children—especially since she already had the perfect man in mind.
James, forty and never married, was handsome, well-groomed, and held a high-paying job in finance. He lived independently—though his flat happened to be next door to his mother’s. A dream catch, by all accounts.
They’d met at her dental practice—he’d come in for a check-up and left with a date. That evening, he waited for her after work with a bouquet—not roses, but rare peonies in February! Then came the restaurant, the romance, and before long, they were a couple.
Yet two years had passed, and still, no proposal. Her friends nudged her—wasn’t it time for a ring? Taking their advice, Emily broached the subject one night. And that’s when James dropped his bombshell: she wasn’t the marrying kind.
Fuming, she met her married friends the next day at their usual spot.
“Can you believe it? He called me *used goods*!” Emily scoffed. “Apparently, men don’t marry women like me!”
“What nonsense!” Kate huffed. “You’re gorgeous, successful—what more could he want?”
“He says he’ll only marry a pure woman. And I’m… well, third-rate, apparently. What do I do now? He’s perfect otherwise—smart, well-off, great in bed—”
“Drop him, love,” Lisa snorted. “Before he ruins your self-esteem for good.”
“Or bring him to ours this weekend!” Kate chimed in. “We’re celebrating our tenth anniversary—let’s show him what marriage looks like!”
To Emily’s shock, James agreed to go. He even drove. At Kate’s countryside cottage, the atmosphere was warm—children laughing, a barbecue sizzling, and their lively terrier, Biscuit, darting about. The evening wore on, drinks flowed, and eventually, the conversation turned to marriage.
James, ever the charmer, leaned in. “Kate, tell me—why hasn’t Emily married yet? You’ve been wed ten years, yet she’s still single.”
Kate shrugged. “We married young and daft at uni. Emily was busy building her career.”
“And tell me—were you… *pure* when you married?”
Kate’s husband, Mike, bristled. “What kind of question is that?”
“I’m just saying—a man should marry an untouched woman. Otherwise, what’s the point? Would you marry a woman with a past?”
Lisa snorted. “What, are you royalty? Demanding virgins in this day and age? You’ve strung Emily along for years!”
James smirked. “She should know her place. Women like her—or worse, like you, Lisa, a divorcee with a kid—are hardly first-rate.”
Mike stood, towering over James. “Get out. Now.”
James turned to Emily. “Are you coming?”
She was laughing too hard to answer. Humiliated, he stormed off.
“He did you a favour,” Mike muttered. “No man’s better than a rotten one.”
Life went on. James never called. Then, one day, an invitation arrived—his wedding. Fancy script, doves, the works.
“Don’t go,” Kate advised.
“Oh, I’m going,” Emily said.
At the registry office, James stood proud beside his bride—a girl barely twenty, drowning in a frilly white dress.
“Emily, meet Alice,” he said smugly.
“And she’s… pure?” Emily asked sweetly.
“Of course,” James beamed. The bride blushed.
The reception was underway when Alice’s father took the mic. “Arseniy—welcome to our family!” He gestured to two little boys. “Meet your new stepsons!”
James turned white. His mother shrieked. “You said she was untouched!”
“This is fraud!” James bellowed. “I want a divorce!”
Emily slipped out, stifling laughter. Karma had come full circle.
James did divorce Alice. He even tried crawling back to Emily, but she wasn’t interested. Why settle for second-best? Especially when a charming colleague had just started asking her out…
*Sometimes, the trash takes itself out.*
