Men to Pass Up at All Costs

I cannot fathom where certain men get off thinking they can blow us off, that we are not good enough for them. They should first reflect on their own shortcomings and maybe then they'd actually appreciate a good woman over a whore who serves no greater purpose than a good lay.


I especially despise the man with nothing to bring to the table who acts as though he could reject a woman who isn't even attracted to him in the first place. I mean, I wasn't even paying you any attention and before I know it you think you've turned me down, retard! Back in high school, I hung out at a billiards place with my girl friends and these really sleazy looking low-lifes -would-be high school dropouts - were giving us all dirty looks. One guy approached me and asked if I liked his friend. I told him I didn't.

"You're not even my type," the friend sneered and continued to stare disdainfully at me. "That girl over there is my type," he said, pointing to a girl with big, curly black hair who was shooting pool at the next table.

I laughed. She had nothing on me in any department. "Why are you looking at me that way?" I asked him, "You aren't MY type."

"Okay," he shrugged with a smile, as if he believed I was lying. "What is your type?"

"Well-dressed, educated, athletic," I said with conviction. His smile of disdain wouldn't fade. We were young. I had no way of knowing for sure where life would take this young man - or me. But he carried himself like the kind of guy who would end up a sleazy contractor who convinced people to pay him to do a shitty job making unnecessary repairs to their chimney ("Cops: Babylon brothers charged with shoddy chimney work," Alfonso A. Castillo, Newsday, September 6, 2009).

Even if it's quite obvious that a guy's station in life leaves much to be desired, it doesn't prevent him from displaying his arrogance as an adult. On a humid Saturday evening, I had taken the train in from Long Island to Penn Station. Having regretted wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt on a hot early September day, I didn't feel like waiting on a stuffy underground platform and maneuvering around the subway system in downtown Manhattan. I instead preferred an air-conditioned cab.

So, I think I'll get ahead of the game by getting into one of those cars in a long line of empty cabs waiting for eager passengers coming from the station. And, I randomly stop at the first one in front of me and say "Webster Hall." I was heading over to "The Awesome 80's Prom" and wishing I'd taken out my leggings for the night. The slender cabby with an unidentifiable foreign accent told me to go on the line with the others. Resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to take me, I went ahead. I then caught sight of a hot, busty blonde who could easily have been on her way to a shift at Flashdancers or a nude centerfold shoot. She got a cab ahead of everyone else, and she wasn't even in line.

I joined the line of passengers and stumbled upon the same cabbie from before a few seconds later. He shot me an arrogant smirk and signaled to the back seat where I saw the gorgeous blonde. "She's with me. So long, sucker," he wanted to tell me.

Now what is wrong with this picture? I'll tell you. Men are too visual. And this guy has watched so many American movies depicting the proverbial dumb blonde he thinks that ready and willing blondes are a dime a dozen in this country. When you become too visual, you lose sight of common sense. He stood more to benefit from taking me with my chestnut tresses. I'm an attorney. I'm more likely to tip generously for excellent service.

Blondie, as hot as she may be, is more interested in taking the sucker's money. And, I highly doubt that his cabbie's annual salary, including any gratuitous tips, could satisfy her appetite for a shopping spree at Barney's. All she wanted from him was a ride to her wealthy sugar daddy's Upper East Side condo so she could hop on his wealthy ass. On duty on the job was the closest the cab-driving clown would get to a woman that fine.

He wasn't any more likely to get laid with her than he was with me. I found him repulsive but was too modest to admit it, so I can only imagine what a woman with every reason to be conceited might think of him, if she even spared him a thought at all.

Nevertheless, this poor fool was going to take a chance, wishfully thinking that this fine lady would hook up with him if only he made his move. If he didn't have such poor insight, he'd hold a more lucrative post, one that would help him attract beautiful women. I almost wished I could have caught that ride with her just so I could watch this cocky S.O.B. humiliate himself before Blondie rejected his advances. Instead of a hefty tip financed by billables, she would reward him with a much deserved slap in the face.

Some men find me as appealing as the Manhattan cabbie found the would-be Playboy bunny, albeit not necessarily the kind of men I want to notice me. And they always have a tiny bit of power on their turf, so I don't want to fuck with them too much. At the Roosevelt Field mall one day, I was toting several bags and trying to grab a quick bite at the Greek stand in the food court when a counter boy was responding to my every food and drink order in a raspy voice as he leered into my eyes. I wrinkled up my nose and shot him an angry look, but that wasn't cooling him down. I didn't want to tell him off right away because I was afraid he would spit on my food. Finally, once my food was safely in my hands I told him, "Leave me the fuck alone." He continued to smile as I was walking away and scowling back at him. Some guys just won't take even the most in-your-face hint.

And what woman in her right mind could help but resist incarcerated men (unless they are wrongfully convicted or accused)? Some years ago I interned with the Nassau County District Attorney's Office. One day they took us on a field trip to the county jail to observe the inmates' daily routines and hear the less dangerous convicts share their experiences. As we toured one of the wings, I came across a large section of young men in killer shape (no pun intended)- flat, muscular abs and well-toned biceps.

Their physical appeal could not overcome for me the fact that they'd been in there for the most heinous crimes imaginable according to the corrections officers who accompanied us. Some of them shouted out sexually explicit comments at myself and other women in the group. I would have flipped them off if I didn't have to risk having shit flung at me, a misfortune the corrections officers said they faced on a daily basis.

Now as an attorney heading to court, I especially relish walking by the corrections buses on the way. When those assholes yell obscenities at me, I can curse to my heart's content because the barricades separating them from me have tinier openings, so the shit won't make it through. It's so exhilirating!