“The Treasure in Another Woman’s Trash” by Pietra Dunmore
Years ago, I confessed to my friend Naomi that I wanted a husband more than a career. She rolled her eyes and said, “Pablo Picasso says there are only two types of women-goddesses and doormats. Don’t be a doormat.”
Naomi let me choose from the guys she didn’t want. Back then, my now husband, struck out. “He wears polka dot socks with sandals,” she whispered in my ear. “He’s corny.” Naomi excused herself, and Rob and I started to talk. I thought Rob was handsome, he had big brown eyes and the slight beginning of a beer belly. He told me he wanted to go into teaching, and live a simple, drama-free life. I told him I wanted to live in a Colonial with a bright yellow door. He told me he could make that happen if I would be the one to drive the minivan. “I guess you can find treasure in another woman’s trash,” Naomi sneered.
Naomi had been competing with women her whole life. I spent my college years listening to her brag about how she could take any woman’s man, even if she didn’t want him. During college, Naomi dated ‘Money Bags,’ a married man. After college, he finally divorced-and married some other woman.