Okay, this started as a joke post (look at Sign #2) but now, after listening to the radio this morning, I’m not so sure.
I took the Boxster out for its first post-Zaino commute. There was no CD in the stereo so as I rolled towards Tim Hortons I heard part of a call-in morning show. Somebody had asked the three WACKY CRAZY hosts of the thing for advice. He was in love with a woman after just four weeks, but she said she missed the single life and she wanted to be alone.
Since I was born in 1971 and not 2011, I assumed that “alone” in this case means what it always means when a woman says she wants to be “alone” — she wants to be alone from you, and alone with the cock of some charming but vaguely threatening rogue. The first two callers to offer advice to the lovelorn fellow were male and they didn’t have much to say but the third was female and her story was interesting. I’ll paraphrase:
I knew a guy like this, we dated and he was in love with me but I was in a bad-boy phase and I told him to go away. He was pretty persistent but we lost touch. Twenty-three years later (emphasis mine) we reconnected and now we’re so happy. I wasn’t ready for someone like him before but now I am just thrilled. So hold on, and you might get your dream girl!
Every time I hear shit like this it causes my stomach to drop out from under me like I’m on the Millennium Force rollercoaster. It just confirms the whole Red Pill thing, doesn’t it? Woman dates “badboys” until she’s used up and worn out at which point she agrees to lie beneath some tame impala while she pulls the Amy Winehouse, thinking of some “badboy” until her buzzer goes. Please, please please don’t let this be how things really work.
The problem with reality is that it isn’t interested in your opinion.
Given a chance, the best women choose the worst men. I know this because
a) I’ve seen it
b) I’ve been in plenty of relationships with some of the finest, most decent women possible, all of whom responded to my sociopathic behavior and refusal to commit by becoming even more fine and decent.
You know, man, I’ve seen the best minds of my generation destroyed,
leaving college near-virgins and depressed because they felt unloved and unlovable,
playing online video games every night until their self-esteem had shriveled into their network cable,
waiting patiently to be the appendix of their dream girls’ lives while those girls fucked alcoholics and losers without condoms,
paying mortgages for houses they didn’t need,
feathering nests for women who wouldn’t arrive until they were shell-shocked from the heartbreak warfare of fifty sex partners,
smiling hopefully while the girl behind the counter at Starbucks saw an empty space where their faces were,
sending texts that said “I hope you still like me” that made a phone buzz on a floor next to a torn-off set of panties,
buying gifts of incandescent thoughtfulness for people who couldn’t remember their exact names,
sitting alone in fast-food restaurants at lunch wondering why they bothered to go to work and go home and live for no one and nothing.
This will never change until someone does something about it. So the nice people at eHarmony have created this list for their female subscribers. It warns them, gives them signs that indicate they’re being used, fucked without remorse or love, treated like trash, relegated to backup-bitch status.
In a perfect world, every woman in America would read this list, recognize that their last five “complicated” relationships checked the appropriate boxes, and swear their troth that they would find a decent, loving, human breadwinner to cherish and love the way that person will cherish and love them. In a perfect world, this would happen.
But where would that leave me?