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I don't like men who talk too much about themselves. Never have, never will. It's probably something that most women would agree with. Men who talk too much about themselves too much are self absorbed, annoying jerks. And I really didn't have any room in my life for one more self absorbed, annoying jerk, now did I? After all, I am a lawyer - I LIVE amongst self absorbed annoying jerks all day long from 9 to 5.

So when I met Peter I was intrigued. Here was exactly the opposite kind of man everyone expected me to go out with. He was a house painter. He was a carpenter. He worked with his hands and wore coveralls not Hugo Boss. He drank coffee from a thermos every morning, not from Starbucks. And he didn't even own a cell phone.

Here was a man who could turn my head twice.

Peter was painting my office. I had a gorgeous office. I had just been made partner in my law firm, and I inherited the office from a Senior partner who had retired. It overlooked Lake Michigan. It had wall to wall wrap around windows with the most amazing view I'd ever seen. And it had been occupied by a self important, misogynistic asshole who made more money than god. The walls were hunter green, the carpets duller than dirt beige. I earned the office, I was going to make it mine. A reflection of good taste, appreciation for beauty and in a word, FEMININE. I wanted all the Boy's Club members of the attorney world to know they had entered Girl's Town when they stepped foot in my office. ...

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