“…and so that’s why I became a lawyer,” she said.
“Because everyone always said you should?” I asked.
“Because you have always been opinionated and enjoy arguing?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Fascinating,” I said. Bored.
“Do you really think so?”
“No, not especially.”
“Oh, well, how charming of you to say.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, raising my glass.
“I know your type,” she said, clearly riled.
“Do tell,” I encouraged her.
“You’re one of those ‘say exactly what you think’ assholes. Like your unfiltered opinion is a favor you’re bestowing on the rest of the world.”
“Welp, sounds like you’ve got me all figured out. Thanks for the drink…” I said, rising to leave.
“Well, wait,” she said.
“Why did you become a lawyer?”
“I ask myself that question every day.”
“And what’s your answer?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you like arguing?”
“No, not particularly.”
“But lawyering is arguing. Why become a professional arguer if you don’t like to argue?”
“I like winning. I don’t like arguing.”
“You don’t think you’d like arguing with me?” she asked, looking up at me through her eyelashes.
“No,” I said. “I told you I like winning.”
“And you don’t think you could win an argument with me?” she asked.
“I doubt anyone could,” I said. Which pleased her.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you can never win an argument with someone incapable of ever admitting she is wrong, for whom logic is never the primary consideration, and with whom any fight, if pursued long enough, will eventually culminate in her proffering ‘whatever‘ as some sort of ace in the hole, catch all death blow, defying refutation.”
Watching her wither as she processed this last part was the only vindication I needed. I had seen the word lingering palpably behind her pursed lips, but she could hardly say it now. She grabbed her purse and left. I finished my drink in blissful silence.