Q: Where is the line between confidence and conceit?
A: The area where jerks thrive.
A few days ago I shared a story that involved me walking up to an attractive woman, attempting to ignite a romantic spark only to be douched away.
On the Blogger site, I received the following comment:
Without needing to explain how I know this, I'm over 90% certain a young woman typed that comment. That should be a surprise to nobody.
The concert in which that above story took place, had more than enough examples of varying degrees of public ass spankings. I have also seen a father, holding a child of less than two years, slap the mother of his child in a similar way during a picnic. And I don't know why the following specific memory still exists in my mind: a very young self, while in a flower / garden shop saw a couple my parents' age involved in this popular-since-the-dawn-of-time salutation.
In formal response to the anonymous comment:
There seems to be something flawed in a woman who is attracted to jerks, thus I do not want to play up an aspect of her I don't deem desirable. More importantly, I am incapable of following through to the extent that I would need to in order to be truly convincing. Of course I can act (and sadly have acted) deplorable in specific times and places - but eventually I'll have to prove my 'bag appeal' by either puffing out my chest at an inferior male or execute the aforementioned swinging hand offensive to below the belt.
However, there are always those saintly women who - in the true spirit of sisters of mercy - want to save these horrible alpha males. Women who interpret outward aggression as cries for help and chauvinistic gestures as displays of affection. I am envious at the power of their self delusion.
But I have hope, because most of these women - the party girls specifically - are beginning to break down. Their bodies are incapable of maintaining the drinking regimen fostered on a campus (for some) ten years ago. They are no longer able to skip the following day's schedule without consequence - or show up in public wearing pajamas. It's when these women finally begin to evaluate an exit strategy is when I think I'll finally have my chance.
It's when the facts that I don't live with roommates, and don't live within stumbling distance of a bar will look like positive aspects. Someone who doesn't have to take another weekend shift waiting tables to pay for a recreational drug habit, but rather can take someone out for an evening. I can go on - but in case any about to be reformed dames of debauchery are reading this - I don't want to spoil the surprise.