Since nice guys finish last, why don’t they upgrade to rascal? It’s only a matter of time before natural selection disposes of them completely. The world of romance would be a perfectly peachy paradise if there were a one-to-one ratio of girls and jerks. That way everyone gets what they want! Here’s why:
Girls are all self-proclaimed psychologists and statisticians of love. We have an inherent need to snatch mundane details and jab at them beneath the lens of pocket magnifying glasses for sharp-eyed scrutiny. Rather than collecting data, we hoard every morsel of evidence and plot the happenstance of our love lives on timelines and graphs, which we compulsively organize in the endless file-cabinets of our minds.
Once we amass enough information to thrice overflow the Earth’s oceans, we use confidential algorithms to analyze the results. That’s right. We don’t daydream – we do unfathomable applied math. By incorporating the data we have stockpiled through years of observation and experimentation with our professional knowledge of psych, stats, sociology, astrology and rocket science, we predict the future (and you thought your computer games were cool!).
We read minds. We take pride in being 99.9 percent right. We also have clandestine meetings in Area 52, (wherein we have attempted and failed to make most devious plans for a matriarchal universe).
But we bore of being so consistently correct. Our inner psychologists begin yearning for the strange and even extreme. After all, if boys are mysteries, we’re far too sophisticated to waste our time on the simple and straightforward nice guys.
Jerks are much more fascinating. They know our lives are miserable without problems to disentangle, so they graciously provide us the mental exercise we need by forcing us to puzzle them out like mind-boggling Rubik’s cubes that your prankster friends took apart and realigned in your absence. Now that’s excitement!
What girl would go for bland perfection when she could instead have a taste of trouble that is mouth-wateringly delicious?
Thus, we are enraptured with the depressed, the tortured, the combustible and sometimes all of the above. These warped womanizers stretch and redefine the limits of our imaginations like silly putty. And so we become the putty in their hands.
But there’s more. We have a secret … Despite the indisputable, unsurprisingly obvious fact that women are better than men, we’re still afflicted by chronically low self-esteem.
It’s too weird for us to have nice boys hovering around, serenading us with songs of praise, or drooling fountains as they gape at us open-mouthed while simultaneously scribbling tear-smudged poetry inspired by our interminable beauty.
It’s only flattering to be pursued by a whiny, weepy, love-struck Romeo for that dazed half-hour before slamming my head into my desk seems a brilliant idea.
But how can a guy become the jerk that girls crave? By simply investing a few hours a week watching episodes of “Yu-Gi-Oh” and “Dragon Ball Z” and taking copious notes on the mannerisms of Seto Kaiba and Vegeta.
I think all guys could benefit from spiky hair that changes color, superpowers, possession of holographic technology and nicely-fitting blue trench coats … not to mention the nonchalant, “couldn’t care less” attitude. Selflessness is cute but selfishness is sexy!
So, men, quit trying so hard. Being nice is a waste of time and energy; it will get you nowhere in love.
Don’t share what you’re thinking. Don’t tell us what you like about us. Don’t remind us you care about us or respect us. Don’t remember anniversaries or birthdays. Don’t ever apologize for hurting our feelings. And don’t ever open doors or pull out chairs for us.
Girls love to be treated terribly. It lets us pretend we live in a society where males and females are equal. We’re sick of being considered fragile.
But maybe what we sometimes want is not what we truly deserve … Maybe there’s a reason nice guys have not been weeded out of the world. Maybe we just need a slap of reality to knock any delusions we might have about romance out of our brains. This is it!
Send ZENITA SINGH your life’s woes at firstname.lastname@example.org!