Mr. Opposite

My good friend Becky thinks I am a bit of a Boy Scout, and former altar boy that I am, I have to agree with her. I have always been a ‘nice’ guy to women, and treated each one with kindness and respect. It has gotten me dumped several times.

The band was playing in a new club, and I decided to be a jerk that night. Well, not a total jerk, but I would NOT be nice! We hadn’t been to this particular club before, no one knew me, and I wanted to finish the final phase of my How To Pick Up Girls research.

I have in the past, as most of you have read, tried to pick up girls by various means including: my manly pheromones (yea OK, I didn’t shower for a few days..), stuffing gym socks into my pants to enhance my manly bulge (stuff the FRONT of your jeans next time Rob), using subliminal language (youlovemebabyandyouknowyouwantme), and even getting a girl semi drunk. I have found that as a woman gets drunker, her maternal instincts are less repressed, and the ‘cuter’ and ‘more cuddly’ I become.

I have also found that most girls tend to find ‘nice’ guys too boring and predictable, and will, if given the chance, tend to dump a nice guy for a jerk. It has happened to me, and to most guys like me, and now I needed the final confirmation to my theory that girls are attracted to guys who would treat them badly, because they are motivated to try to ‘save’ or ‘rehabilitate’ them.

I had also observed that the jerks who got the most girls had, or seemed to have, a DARK SECRET, some terrible thing that turned them into jerks in the first place. They would occasionally get all quiet and brooding, purposely becoming distant from the girl who was attracted to them. Girls would do anything to find out what the tragic secret was. A woman’s curiosity can be a compelling force.

I wore an uncharacteristically tight shirt, and unbuttoned an extra button to show more of my manly chest. I used a trendy aftershave and even wore a big silver chain around my neck. I had, of course, practiced looking cool in the mirror for days. A sardonic half smile with a partially raised eyebrow should be enough to make a girl think I was doubtful of anything she was saying. That way, she would make a greater effort to convince me, and try harder to make me like her, right? The only thing I needed was a DARK SECRET, something to lend me an air of mystery.

Our first set went well and I noticed a couple of nice looking girls checking me out, even without gym socks stuffed in my jeans. On our break I sauntered over to the bar and stood beside an attractive blond, who actually reminded me of my first real girlfriend, the first girl I truly loved. Medium blond hair, blue eyes, sensual lips, athletic but still shapely figure. She dumped me for a guy who later then dumped her in just a couple of months. He was a jerk. I have stayed away from blonds since  then.

I decided that, for this night, I would do the opposite of what I usually do and see how it worked. If a girl said something nice to me, I would bust her up instead of saying something nice back. If I was attracted to her, I would act like I didn’t care.

The blond at the bar looked at me, seemed a bit surprised and said, “Oh, aren’t you with the band?”

“Yup.” Giving her just a brief glance.

“Well I love your style of music.”

I turned and looked at her, only a half smile on my face. “Thanks, but you appear to be more into Jonas brothers than Blues.” I will make her feel like an unsophisticated teeny bopper!

“Oh no,” she said eagerly, “I really like the Blues.”

“Well I bet a drink that you don’t know the name of BB King’s guitar, but you do know the names of the Jonas Brothers.”

Her pretty face went into a adorable frown, and she shook her head. “I guess I owe you a drink! I’m Debbie. Want to join me and my girlfriends?” She pointed to a table with two other attractive girls, still seemingly unattached.

I got my usual non alcoholic drink and sat at her table, acting like I sat at a table full of beautiful girls everyday. Actually I do in the hospital, but thats work. This was different. I tried to act calm. I asked myself what a jerk would do. Why he would ignore the cute and friendly blond, Debbie, and flirt outrageously with her friends, the busty brunette Heather, or Jen, the girl with long black hair and smoky eyes.

I teased them all about their taste in music and clothes, saying they seemed more suited to a disco than a club that had a blues band. I gave my half grin and an occasional wink and acted as if I didn’t care if they liked me or not. I would join the girls between sets and we would all talk and laugh more. The three girls actually seemed to be competing for my attention every time I sat with them. I would crack jokes and make them laugh, but I never said anything nice to them, never gave even a compliment; just bust them up, act cool, and come across as a total player. When they asked about my work, I told them I worked in the ER, but got my ‘brooding’ look if they asked for more details. I had become a man with an air of mystery, a man who obviously enjoyed the company of women, but who couldn’t be bothered to open up with them. I had transformed into a kind of an opposite of my usual self, a Bizzaro Rob.

As the night progressed, it became obvious that Debbie liked me, and even though I felt she was sweet and fun, and definitely pretty, I kept up my act, and didn’t talk with her much at all. As I played on stage at the end of our last set, I noticed Debbie waiting near me. We finished our last song with a flourish and bid the crowd goodnight, and as I was packing my guitar Debbie came up to me. The stage lights were dimmed, and I saw how delicate and pretty she appeared in the soft light.

“Rob, I asked around and no one could tell me the name of BB King’s guitar” She had a really nice smile and a gentle voice.

“Well you have to listen to a lot of blues to earn the right to know that answer.” I couldn’t help it, I gave her a brief smile.

She seemed shy and hesitant, but took a step forward and gently slid a business card in my shirt pocket. “It’s my number.” She put her hand on my arm, “Call me please?” Then she turned and hurried away.

I had never had a woman just voluntarily give me her number. At first I was proud of the way I had acted that night. After all, I had meet a table full of hot girls who seemed to like me, and the prettiest one had made a point of giving me her numbe

r. But as I made the twenty minute drive home, I felt I had been a fraud, I had been rude to Debbie and yet somehow she still liked me enough to take a chance giving me her number. Did she like me because I had acted like an uncaring jerk, or because she sensed that underneath all the bullshit I was a good guy after all? What had started out as a game didn’t seem to be one anymore. Hearts were involved.

I got to my apartment and sat in my comfortable easy chair, just thinking things over. I reached into my shirt pocket, checked the business card and called her number. A soft sleepy voice answered.

“BB King’s guitar is Lucille.” I whispered softly.

“Rob is that you?”

“Yes, I just didn’t want you awake in bed all night trying to figure out the answer.” I heard a giggle and then a soft sigh, and I hung up the phone gently.