Purple Ties, A Hairbrush And The Nice Guy (Part II)

After a quick game of Paper, Rock and Scissors, Ben got up and told the lady she was welcome to join us if she wanted.

I saw a hint of hesitation from her part, but after taking another look if there were any other available seats, she smiled and walked to our table.

Danielle is the kind of girl you only see in dreams, or if you’re a bookworm, in one of Judith Krantz’s novels. And it’s too bad Ben had to ruin it for both of us. At the end of her meal, she thanked us for the seat and made a hasty exit.

I shook my head slowly and berated the idiot across me on why he had to take out his eight-year-old wooden hairbrush every two minutes to comb his mop. And did he have to talk to Danielle about what shades of purple neckties went with his shoes? What an egotistical moron! I almost cried just thinking about the golden opportunity I had with a pretty girl, who, out of sheer courtesy, took my mobile phone number (Ben didn’t have one).

So you can just imagine what I felt when she called up a few days later, politely and cheerfully asking if I was free to "go out for coffee." If I was free? Ha! The army could have drafted me and I would have ditched that one! I wanted to tell Ben the exciting news, but decided against it when I thought that he might want to show up and start a conversation about how fantastic he looked in white slacks. What a turd!

The coffee tasted awful, but the thing that hurt most was towards the end of the date, when Danielle quipped: "Where’s Ben?"

I tell you folks, I almost gagged with disgust. I was a gentleman through it all, you see, and I even had the heart to buy her a trinket as a token gift for ringing me up.

And now, I couldn’t believe that she was looking for that narcissistic joke of a man when I, who was as nice as can be, was as available as a sanitary napkin. I tried to smile and tried to be witty by saying "Ben never left, Danielle," but the damage had been done.

After that disastrous afternoon date with Danielle, I told Ben what happened and naturally, he stuck it in my face. It took all of my willpower not to bang my head against the wall. And as we went out for ice cream, I began thinking why the bastard was a hit with the main courses, while I was stuck with the leftovers. I hated it!

And then, I realized what most pretty women always say – they like a nice guy.

But in truth, no one really does. Oh you know the nice guy don’t you? He’s the kind of sucker every woman wants for a friend. He’ll nurse you through your broken hearts, and he’s gentle, kind, supportive, and usually, without a girlfriend.

Oh, the nice guy, gets through to about four dates with the beautiful lass, until she starts pulling away. This is because deep inside she wants more of a challenge. You might say that with this kind of thinking, I might as well "fly over the cuckoo’s nest," but that was what I felt at the time so I couldn’t help it.

In any case, I looked at myself long and hard at the side mirror of one of the packed cars and thought, how can Ben stand this every two minutes? I didn’t have the stomach for it and I could no longer see the difference between Ben and me so I turned away. As I neared my house, ice cream in hand, I just felt resigned to being second place to the arrogant fool who stole Danielle’s interest from the nice guy..

Reuben Matthew, you’re going down the drain as fast as a wet hairball, so you better damn decide which one you are, I told myself. Later, I would decide that maybe the two of them could co-exist.

With that, I threw away the half-eaten strawberry cone and pulled out my eight year old wooden hairbrush o comb my mop. I then remembered that none of my purple ties really went with my shoes.

Comments about nothing are welcome at reuben_matthew@hotmail.com