J.D., Bar Card, HUSBAND...In That Order

This dude told me today, with half a turkey sandwich in his mouth, that women in law school are focused on obtaining two things: G and H.

I demanded he chew and swallow before elaborating.

“Grades and husbands, in that order,” he replied.

I was stunned.  Not because he accidentally sprayed my t-shirt with processed turkey meat, but that he was repeating the same load of bullshit another friend had told to me weeks prior.

“Huh, grades and husbands?” I asked.  He confirmed my question as though any other reason for females enrolling in law school was asinine and a complete and utter fallacy.

Tonight, my homegirl’s ex bust it baby confirmed the theory that most women in law school ARE there to find husbands. 

Wow.

I was quite unaware that when I purchased my first LSAT study aid book in Borders, that I was also studying on how to search, track, wound, and trick a man who aspires to obtain a bar card into marriage so that I will acquire a property interest and be set for life (or until I give birth to his children and then demand a divorce and half his assets plus alimony and a ridiculous amount of child support).

Well, duh!  How can I ignore the logic?  What woman wants to be self-sufficient by expanding her knowledge while attempting to shatter the glass ceiling and do better for herself and those that admire her?

Apparently, it makes complete sense that my fellow female classmates desire, yearn, want nothing more than to find a husband since their biological clocks are ticking and will abruptly die in less than five years.  “Its natural that women want to get married now because they have to start making babies soon.”

Natural.  Makes sense.

So you’re telling me that in five years, at 28, when I’m barred in the state of New York and fabulous as hell, when I’m trekking my way through my career trying to carve a place for myself in the firm’s yearly consideration of new partners, that my eggs will shrivel, die, and fall into my panties after I sneeze too hard.

That at 28, it’ll be too late to have children which ultimately means I’ll never get married and be featured on an episode of Platinum Weddings, and will be forced to submerge myself in briefs and motions and live alone with a cat and a vibrator wishing that I’d taken the male advice given to me years ago that I MUST focus on getting “G and H, in that order”.

So before I’m infertile and not worth marrying, let me put away my next victims list and pull out a sheet of paper and figure out who the fuck I’m going to marry and procreate with by 2010 before its all too late and I’m just another female with a J.D. and a bar card whose title is worthless because my name isn't proceeded by the word MRS.