Where are the nice guys, anyway? “Over there, in seventh place,” said Leo Durocher, and in those days there were only eight teams in each league. The fact that this location is also correct outside of baseball, we’re not supposed to think about:
Every observant man knows that there is a yawning chasm between (a) what women say they value most in a man and (b) the kind of man women actually go for. Listen to what women say, and you’d think they are magnetically attracted to “sensitive” guys. Watch what women actually do, and you can see that women obviously don’t actually care about “sensitivity.” Women want men who are tall and muscular and, ceteris parabus, rich, although no amount of money is going to make a short chubby guy sexy. As for the claim that women go for “sensitive” guys, anyone with two eyes and a brain knows this is nonsense. You don’t see throngs of lovestruck college girls chasing after guys who major in sociology or English literature (unless, of course, these guys are also tall, muscular and rich). No, it’s the jocks and frat boys who get the best action on campus, and if you pay attention to the choices women make, you’ll begin to suspect that their professed preference for “sensitive” men is the exact opposite of truth. That girl who was lecturing you about your need to be more “sensitive” will, with surprising regularity, end up falling head-over-heels for some selfish creep or dimwit brute who can’t even spell the word “sensitivity.”
There’s a small but measurable chance that I retain some vestigial quantity of sensitivity. However, it is also a matter of record that my prime — okay, subprime — dating years were also the years during which I maxed out my Douche Card. Whether this data point supports this premise, I couldn’t say, inasmuch as I never quite understood why anyone would look my way in the first place. My jock and/or frat-boy credentials, you may be certain, are minimal at best.