Despite what her mother says, Jules doesn’t need a man – she can afford her own mortgage, mow her own lawn, and hang her own drywall. And she hates dating. There are only two kinds of reactions men have when she tells them what she does for a living. Either they have some kind of cop kink and asked way to many questions about handcuffs and snipers and vests and guns, or they just shut down on her completely, and she can almost see them mentally mentally writing her off.
Sometimes she misses having someone to ask how her day was. It’s been a while since she’s come home to the pleasant surprise that someone else has done the dishes, bought the groceries, put a load of laundry in, cooked dinner. Part of her doesn’t think she’ll get to have that again. Sweetness and stability are things that other people get, people who aren’t the first woman in SRU, people who don’t sometimes have to shoot strangers. If she thinks about it too hard, she hates Ed and Wordy a little bit for getting everything they want. It’s all so easy for them.
Jules hates moping, so she makes dinner – peanut butter and bananas on whole wheat – and cracks open a beer. It’s Friday night. If she can get the drywall taped and floated tonight, she can texture it tomorrow and get it painted Sunday afternoon.