All morning Darci went on and on about how great Douglas was. It was Douglas "this" and Douglas "that." Heck, before long I wanted to marry Douglas. I knew if something didn't happen soon, one of us would wind up with a pencil jabbed in their eye, so I decided to take an early lunch. And that's when I met Douglas, himself. Darci's knight in shining armor. Her "man among men." Her alpha-male. And I learned the truth about Douglas...dude is a hobbit. I'm not kidding. Dude-is-a-hobbit. Somehow, this guy had escaped from Middle Earth and made it into my office. Within nano-seconds, Darci and Bilbo's twin were out the door to celebrate their love over lunch. I was shocked, because that's certainly not what I pictured Douglas looking like. I suddenly became impressed with Darci. I had sold her short. She wasn't about looks or height or hygiene, she was about what a person (or hobbit in this case) was like on the inside. Then I saw Darci get in Douglas' Porsche Boxster and smiled. Darci is just as shallow as the rest of us.
It doesn't take the inside of a locker room to know that men and women are different. Women are attracted to money and men are attracted to looks. Think about it, when a girl meets a guy the first thing a girls' friends will ask is, "what does he do?" How cute a guy is will depend largely on the answer to this question. If Douglas were a parking lot attendant, he would be a character out of "Three Billygoats' Gruff," but because he owns a Boxster, he's marrying Darci.
When a guy meets a girl the first thing his friends ask is, "is she hot?" That's all we need to know; any other details are just to pass the time until the commercials are over and the game is back on. If a dude were to ask another dude, "what does she do?" The answer would probably be a vulgar punchline.
After Darci returned from her lunch with Frodo, Gandalf and the rest of the gang from Gondor, I had to ask her how she and Douglas met. They met while jogging on the beach near his Malibu beach house (he must be trying to stay in shape in case those nutty Orcs drop by announced). Darci said that she hadn't had any luck with other guys because men are intimidated by beautiful women. I had to set her straight because, see, she's twenty-two. Bad luck with a guy at her age means a v.d., not intimidation.
But what Darci said is one of my all-time favorite clichés that models say in men's magazines. You always read about these drop-dead gorgeous women who complain they can't get a date to save their lives because, "for some reason men are intimidated by beautiful women." Okay, men are not intimidated by beautiful women, we are turned on by them. That's why we buy magazines with pictures of beautiful (and mostly naked) women in them. Intimidation is standing at a urinal beside John Holmes, not talking to LeeAnn Tweeden.
To further prove my point, one of my other co-workers said that she wouldn't marry man unless he is financially stable. This co-worker is rather attractive, as well, and her belief is that her looks have afforded her a certain lifestyle. So she needs a man who can meet those needs. Now why the sam-hell she's working in my office if this is true escapes me, but she's got her Meredith College attitude and she's sticking to it. By the way, my office is full of attractive women (that's one of the benefits of living in southern California). It's kind of like a Hooters without the smiles, cool uniforms and cold beer.
Personally, I have no problem with a woman using a man for his money as long as she has no problem with being put out to pasture when gravity takes effect and the next wave of co-ed manhunters come a calling. It's the natural order of things. It also explains why my pecking order in the dating world is just above cretin and just below carnie. The key is coming to grips with your reality and remembering that at least your mother still loves you. That (and a lot of self-medicating) makes everything better.
I tried to share my wisdom with Darci and the other girls in my office, but I was greeted with the usual sighs, eye-rolls, and shakes of the head. Apparently I don't get it (which is quite true, I really don't- which is why I envy Douglas of Rohan) but that's not going to stop me from trying to help out when I can.
Have a happy and safe Easter (or Passover or plain ol' April 20th- whatever works). Stay safe and stay tuned…