I know, the post is late, and in two parts, but its only because I got up at 10:00 am and I have a bit of a hangi, both courtesy of the fellas, they took me out for a night on the town, literally on the town. I haven’t had a decent pub crawl in the CBD in donkey years, and they decided to remedy this situation, in part motivated by the fact Ben, the barman, kicked us out of his bar at midnight. Actually, Ben kicked them out at 10:00 pm, but they’re stubborn idiots so rather than leave they called me, at 11:00 pm, to go join them, figuring my appearance would prompt Ben to serve them a couple more beers. It didn’t, hence the amateur pub crawl, amateur because we hit two bars and gave up in frustration, ending up at Kwa-Joyce an hour later. Don’t fret, this is not another tale of bars and what not, that’s not the point to today’s tale. Today’s tale is about a man who doesn’t believe the hype.
Now you’ve met these two fellas before, they’re the geniuses who felt compelled to educate me on the wifey/lay priniciple. Last night was all about one fella looking for an easy lay, all the while moaning that he’s a nice guy, he respects women, and that sex is not just sex. Confused? I was. The man is sitting there bitching about how he has no number on his phone that he can call for a random shag, he calls it ‘dial a pussy’ (I know its crude, but you have to admit its a bit funny, no?), and then he proceeds to give us his theory on how men who sleep with random women are simply using them, and damaging them. Then he gave us the story of a girl in his office that’s very hot, but has always had bile for him. Always, that is, until a weekend a couple of weeks ago, when she all but funga’d herself for him, allegedly because she was high. The genius, he who claims to want an easy lay, ran away. And now he is trying to figure out if she likes him, and what if anything he should do about it. Because he respects women. And he’s a nice guy. And by the way, he’s halfway married, he’s in the process of sending cows to her father’s homestead. Yes, the man has a woman in his house, a woman he insists he would never cheat on, willingly. Eh? At one point in this conversation, I slapped myself with my wallet, in frustration. And then I told him that he was going to be the star of today’s tale, because such foolishness must be shared.
Folks, I may not be the most sage of all women, but there are three things I know to be true about men.
1. There is no such thing as a nice guy. There are good men, but there are no nice guys.
Hang on, don’t get your panties in a bunch just yet, let me explain. See, the guys who call themselves nice guys are inevitably the allegedly shy (but in reality undercover) types who take 6 months to approach a woman, and then when they do they fumble so badly it takes another 6 months to undo the damage. Because they’re not running around funga-ing every skirt in sight using all manner of lies and alibis, they get it into their heads that they must be that ‘nice guy’ everyone keeps talking about. At least that’s what they want us to believe, but the truth is, this inept idiot just hasn’t figured out his play yet. Once he finally strikes gold, whether through a fatter wallet, or a bigger car, or a fancy job title, or a previously hidden talent for salsa dancing (it happens...), the man will be transformed from the meek guy always propping up the counter, to the hound proudly sniffing up as many skirts as possible. These ‘nice guys’ aren’t harmless because they want to be, it’s because they just haven’t figured out how to be the bad boys they really are. It’s all a matter of time, once he finally flicks the switch in his head and starts to believe his own hype, then my friend you best look out. This lovely fella of mine, while proclaiming his unwavering commitment to his woman in one breath, will spend an hour discussing his grand plans to have a clande in the not too distant future, once his plans for career advancement come to fruition. But hey, he’s a nice guy, right?
I’ll say it again, there are no nice guys. There are good men, men who know their right from wrong (theirs not yours, don’t get it twisted), men who know their worth and can see that of their woman, perhaps all their women if they are so inclined. These days when a man tells me he’s a nice guy, my eyes snap open, suspicious, and my legs instinctively close.
2. A man who tells you he respects women, is a man who will screw you (over) the first chance he gets.
This has to be the most abused line in the history of lines. Ati you respect what? Have you noticed that the guy who unleashes this line almost always tends to be a bit of a misogynist? On the one hand, this is the man who is charming and kind and all those fluffy things a woman likes, but at the same time this man thinks the woman is less than, a plaything to be used and abused at will. The way I see it, respecting women, or men, isn’t something that needs to be proclaimed, it just is. If you’re a half decent human being, you probably know to treat everyone with respect, no? So when a man goes out of his way to make that (ludicrous) claim, this as he stares down my shirt or up my skirt, I get the urge to slap someone, possibly him. These idiots think that hollow platitudes and feel-good rubbish stolen from an NGO handbook will get a woman to drop her pants that much faster, and it works on some of the young girls out there, unfortunately, so they keep repeating that same tired line, over and over. You respect women? How about maybe treating them like they have half a brain and coming up with a slightly smarter come-on, preferably one that isn’t trying to tug on their (or your?) low self esteem?
Slight detour, I have to clarify that I used the term misogynist in the loosest sense, as in a man who has some resentment towards women. If you take the time to go though the links in the research section, you’ll find that this is a rather simple approach, perhaps even flawed, but it’s Sunday and I’m having a single malt kinda day thus far, so feel free to correct me as you see fit.
3. A man is often his own worst enemy.
So this fella of mine is convinced he has no money and therefore cannot get laid, to which I responded, you don’t need to have money to get laid in this town, all you need is the illusion of money, this assuming you’re chasing the random girls who are easily swayed by shiny trinkets, airtime and four kingfishers. He remains unconvinced and is currently planning to upgrade his Toyota
Now while there are some men who need to resort to material enhancement tactics to get laid, this man is not one of them. Folks, this guy is about 5’11”, dark flawless skin, body built for sin with an ass so lovely you want to look at it all day every day, brilliant mind (when not on beer, or starved for sex), hell, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s my exes BFF, and a bit fucked up, I’d have jumped him years ago, probably with disastrous consequences so perhaps its good I didn’t. Thing is, when he looks in the mirror he doesn’t see what I see, he describes himself as below average, in all respects. Tell me, how do you help an idiot like him? I’ve tried everything over the years; I tried praise and flattery, didn’t work; I tried insults and mockery, reverse psychology, didn’t work; I may have even slapped him, no joy. Last night I was in the club with two men, none mine, both attracting their fair share of stares, but while fella number one was happy to soak in the random attention, including a loose free drink or two, every so often, fella number two was sitting there soaking in the beers, moaning about how he cant get laid, this while a couple of women were ogling his lovely ass. What to do? He is his own worst enemy.
And thus we get to the point to all this nonsense. I realise we all have our insecurities, we’re all struggling with one demon or another most days. For some of us, we don’t think we are good enough, or at least not yet, that we don’t deserve that good man/woman/job/life we crave. For others, it’s simply a case of not wanting to be disappointed, again, so we prefer to sit on the sidelines, never trying, because if you don’t play the game, then you can’t lose, or win. Question is, how long are you willing to let your demons hold you back? I’m always talking about embracing your flaws, and those of others, but I’m starting to think I left out something important. Perhaps, what we need to do is start by embracing our beauty, see the good, and then see the bad. Perhaps, its time to start believing the hype, our own hype.
I’ll tell you what I told my friend last night, for as long as you don’t buy the shit you’re selling, no-one else will.
